A Tale Of Two Fords
by GoodOl'WhatsHerName
Summary: The year was 1970. Stanford just enrolled in Backupsmore University and just began the long journey of learning to forgive his brother. All of the students pass with their forgettable faces, but there's one student at BU that Stanford can't get out of his mind. Follow Stanford as he learns to love and trust again.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This story takes place in 1970 with Stanford enrolled in Backupsmore University. It's mostly canon, but there might be just a few little parts that are different. I know this is a pretty short chapter, but the other ones will be longer. Everyone has to start somewhere! Also, please leave a comment if you like it. I'm also open to suggestions, so if there's something you want to happen, leave a comment and maybe I'll add it to the story! Thanks for reading!_

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English Composition wasn't exactly Stanford's favorite class. It wasn't necessarily because of the subject matter, though. He wasn't sure if it was the monotonous voice of the professor or the fact that none of the 10 students in the class seemed to be truly engaged. Stanford had only been attending Backupsmore for a week now, and he was already ready to graduate. Granted, it would only take him about half the time to get his Bachelors as it usually took since he had doubled up on classes, leaving himself very little free time. A lack of free time didn't really bother Stanford though. He spent most of his time alone anyway, and that's exactly how he liked it. He even requested that he have a single dorm rather than have a roommate.

Stanford tapped his pencil lightly on his desk in a continuous beat matching the clock ticking overhead. His thoughts began to wander off as the professor continued to go over the proper use of semicolons. He began to think about what English Composition at West Coast Tech was like. Perhaps the professor there had an interesting voice or interactive teaching style. Perhaps the students actively participated rather than sitting there with a dull, vacant look in their eyes. Perhaps he'd actually be enjoying the lesson. Perhaps he'd meet kindred spirits and make friends with other nerds like himself. Perhaps he'd find someone exactly like him. That thought made Stanford stop tapping his pencil. There was someone exactly like him, but not in the way he wanted. His twin brother Stanley. Just the though of his brother lit a fire in the pit of Stanford's stomach. Stanley was the whole reason the he was in this dump in the first place. If Stanley hadn't gotten jealous and destroyed Stanford's project, he could be on the other side of the country learning from the best in the field. Stanley ruined his life. Stanford snapped out of his dream-like state when he accidentally snapped his pencil. He didn't even realize how hard he was gripping it. A girl with long blonde hair down to her hips, who was only sitting a few seats away, looked over in confusion, first at the pencil, then at Stanford. With an apologetic shrug, he stuffed the halved pencil into his satchel by his feet. He wasn't really taking notes anyway.

The relative stillness of the room was broken by the sound of the door shutting and quick footsteps down the stairs. The monotone voice of the professor was broken as well.

"How nice of you to decide to join us, sir." He stated condescendingly.

A short, but thin boy no older than Stanford came bounding down the stairs with more energy than the 10 students combined. The boy stopped when he realized the professor was waiting for some kind of response.

"Oh, um, I'm sorry sir," The boy stammered with a slight southern accent, "You see, the thing is, I was working on this-"

"I don't want to hear it. Just please, sit down."

The boy obeyed and the lesson continued. He was seated just a few rows in front of Stanford. The boy was digging through his bag rapidly. After a few moments, he pulled out an odd little mechanical box and a very small screwdriver. He gently sat the box on his desk and began to work on it. At this point, Stanford had almost completely forgot about the lesson. _What on earth is that guy tinkering with?_ Stanford thought. _How can he just ignore the lesson and work on something else?_

Stanford examined him. He was wearing a heavy mustard colored sweater with the collar of a baby blue button-down shirt poking out. His light colored bellbottom jeans flowed down to his slick brown loafers. He had two bandaged cuts on his right hand and an untreated one on his left. The boy's head was drooping down so he could see what he was doing better, which caused his glasses to constantly slide down his nose. His light brown, almost blond, hair was tousled like someone who has in a hurry with a few pieces sticking up in random directions. Every few minutes, he would jerk and swear under his breath while shaking his hand from a pinch or a poke.

He captivated Stanford. Out of all of the high school dropouts and middle-aged students, he stood out the most. Time seemed to fly by as Stanford continued to gaze and figure out what the boy was working on. All of a sudden, he stopped and but his screwdriver down slowly.

 _Is he done?_ Stanford thought. _What's it supposed to be anyway? It looks like a useless hunk of metal._ He leaned forward and craned his neck to try to get a better view of the strange object. Suddenly, without warning, the tinkerer turned his head and made steady eye contact with Stanford. Startled, Stanford shot back into his seat and glued his eyes to the chalkboard, pretending that his attention was focused there the whole time.

"This will conclude class for today. Make sure to answer questions 1-27 on page 322 for tomorrow." The professor announced.

Without looking at the boy seated in front of him, Stanford clumsily shoved his notebook and textbook into his satchel. He stood up, swinging the bag over his shoulder. When he turned to leave, he almost ran into the tinkerer who decided to meet him at his seat.

"Oh! Hello, sorry, I'll just be going-" Stanford tried to shuffle past.

The boy squinted his eyes, "Stanford Pines."

His voice sent a shiver down Stanford's spine and made his face grow unbearably hot, "H-how do you know my name?"

After a few mysterious seconds, the boy burst into laughter, "It's stitched into your bag! Name's Fiddleford McGucket, but you can just call me Fids like everyone else."

Stanford reached out for a handshake, "Nice to meet you, Fids."

Fiddleford took his hand and shook it excitedly, "Likewise. It's a cigarette dispenser, by the way."

Stanford was confused, "What?"

"The thing I was working on. It's a cigarette dispenser. Here, I'll show you how it works." Fiddleford grabbed the machine out of his back and sat it on the nearest desk. He pushed a small button and a flap on the side opened, holding a lit cigarette.

"Neato!" Stanford exclaimed.

"I know, right?" Said Fiddleford. He picked up the smoldering cigarette and offered it to Stanford who politely declined. Fiddleford shrugged and took a long drag.

"So is this why you were late?"

He chuckled, "Not at all. I could show you the thing that made me late if you'd like. Maybe you could help me with it. You seem like a pretty sharp guy."

"Well I didn't graduate top of my class to be dull," Stanford laughed, "Sure, I'd love to come by."

"Groovy! I'm in room 312. Come by sometime after 4 and I'll see what you've got." He winked. And with that, he rested the cigarette in the corner of his mouth, grabbed his things and hurried out, probably late for another class.


	2. Chapter 2

Stanford didn't have any more classes for the rest of the day, so he just decided to head back to his dorm. When he got there, he looked at the clock. It was only 2 o'clock. He still had 2 hours until he was supposed to head over to Fiddleford's. He decided to study for a while and work on his new English assignment. As the clock ticked, he got more and more nervous. _What if Fids doesn't like me? He didn't even mention my six fingers. Maybe he didn't notice them. But then again, he did notice that I was watching him, and he noticed my name on my satchel. Oh God, he had to have noticed._

Stanford kept talking himself in and out of going until it was 3:55.

 _I should go, I could maybe find that friend I was looking for… but then again, what if he ends up thinking I'm just some strange kid and kicks me out?_ Stanford let out a deep sigh that interrupted his train of thought. _These are the kinds of decisions Stanley would make. If Stanley was here, I know he'd want me to go._

Convinced by his brother's brashness, Stanford left his dorm and ascended from the first floor to the third. He stood outside of room, and rubbed the back of his neck with his thick hand. With the other, he knocked shyly. The door swung open almost instantly.

"Hey man! I was wondering if you were going to show!" Fiddleford greeted with a huge smile on his face.

"Here I am!" He smiled back awkwardly.

"Come on in man!" Fids stepped to the side motioning.

Stanford glanced around the room, getting a feel for his surroundings. The place was a mess to say the least. Random pieces of machinery and paper littered the floor. Two large beanbag chairs were in the corner with a poster for the movie _Planet of the Apes_ hung above it. On the opposite side of the room was a small bed with wires wrapped around the legs and a _2001: A Space Odyssey_ poster above it. The room wasn't too far off from what Stanford expected.

"No roommate?" He asked.

"No," said Fiddleford, "I chased him off. Too messy."

"Ah, I see. I probably would have done the same thing if I had a roommate too."

The shorter boy smiled, "So, Stanford, do you want to see what I'm working on?"

"Of course!"

Fiddleford grinned and scurried over to a pile of junk near the foot of his bed. With a decisive tug, he pulled out a device that looked like a brief case with a screen, presenting it.

"What's this supposed to be?"

Fiddleford beamed an ornery smile, "It's a computer."

Stanford let out a long laugh, "Impossible! There is no way that you can make a working computer that small and with such little hardware!"

"That's what I'm working on! I want to shrink the average computer down to a size that you can carry around. Sure, this is just a prototype, but imagine the possibilities! One day, everyone'll have their own little personal computer!"

"You're certainly ambitious, Fids, I'll give you that."

Fiddleford began to put his project away, "Why thank you Stanford. I'll be sure to give you kudos in my autobiography about how I became a millionaire when these computers start flying off the shelves."

Stanford chuckled again, "That's if you can get them on the shelves in the first place."

"I think that getting an A on it in Mechanics is a good place to start." Fiddleford smiled, "You can sit down if you'd like. Please, make yourself at home."

Stanford nodded and took a seat in one of the lime green beanbag chairs. He sunk down slowly as the air was forced out and the chair formed to the curves of his body. It wasn't until now that Stanford noticed the strong earthy scent that seemed to coat everything in the room with a thin layer. He expected much worse, given the tendency of young, single men to avoid cleanliness, but Fiddleford's dorm was different. It was also now that he noticed that none of the things in Fids' room were necessarily dirty, just disorganized.

"Would you like a Coke?" Fiddleford asked, swinging open the door to a small refrigerator resting on the ground.

"Sure, a coke would be delightful."

Stanford watched as Fids bent over to fetch two bottles and effortlessly popped the caps off on the edge of the fridge. He walked over, handed Stanford his drink, and sat down in the other beanbag chair.

"So, Stanford, tell me a little bit about yourself. What's your major?"

Stanford took a quick sip of his soda, "Well, I'm planning on double majoring in Science and Mathematics and minoring in Technology. With the way I've got my courses set up, I should be able to graduate a few years ahead of time."

Fiddleford let out a long, impressed whistle, "Golly, you sure have everything planned out. I'm not even sure what classes I'm taking next semester. I just sort of go with the flow. I just let destiny take me wherever it decides." He crossed his legs and took a big gulp of his own drink.

"That's alright," Stanford reassured, "It's outrageous for adults to expect us to know what we want to do for the rest of our lives, especially at this age. I suppose I'm a bit of an exception. I've been working towards this since I was about 12."

Fiddleford chuckled, "We're pretty similar in that aspect. I've been building and blueprinting for as long as I can remember. My parents told me that when I was just a toddler, I was always fiddling with something. I can't tell if they named me Fiddleford because they knew I'd fiddle with things, or if it was a self-fulfilling prophecy." He sat and thought for a moment, "Or maybe they just wanted me to play the fiddle… oh well, joke's on them because I play the banjo!"

Both of the boys laughed. Stanford was much more comfortable now. He couldn't even remember why he was nervous to come over in the first place.

"Hmm, Stanford," Fids sighed, "That sounds so formal. Do you have any nicknames I could call you?"

"Yes, but most of them aren't very nice…"

"Well what about Stan?" Fids suggested.

"Well, actually, that's what my brother-" Stanford cut himself off, not wanting to bring up the sore topic, "Uh, people just usually call me Ford."

"I like it," Fids nodded, "Ford. Like Henry Ford. You're destined for greatness with a name like that!" He hoisted up his bottle.

"I sure hope so, for my sake at least." Ford smiled.

The two boys talked for what seemed like hours. They discussed things like politics, extraterrestrial life forms, war, peace, and microeconomics. Ford had nearly exhausted his knowledge on architecture, but Fids continued to rattle off the dimensions of the Pyramids of Giza and the different ways they could have been constructed (including alien intervention). It wasn't till several cokes and topic changes later that they started talking about more personal things.

"-And I suppose that's why I was never allowed to use the toaster," Fids said, finishing a long story, "But I guess that my mom has always been like that. You'd do anything for family."

"Yeah…" Ford trailed off, staring absentmindedly at the third empty bottle in his hands. He would have done anything for family, but apparently Stanley didn't think the same way. Ford planned on not talking to Stan ever again, and the realization of this just came back to his mind. He was getting ready to come up with an excuse for leaving.

Fids sensed that something was off, "Hey," He placed a gentle hand on Ford's shoulder, "are you ok, Stanford?"

The warmth and comfort from Fiddleford's gesture made Ford feel worse for leaving, "Yeah, it's just getting kind of late is all."

He looked up at the clock, "It's only 8:45, the sun only just set."

"Yeah, well, I have to get up early for this test and I still need to study for it. I also have this other assignment for Chemistry due tomorrow and it's a nightmare." Ford rambled while standing up.

Fids stood up too, "Oh, well hey, that's alright man, I understand. You can't graduate early by slacking." He added, trying to lessen the tension.

"I suppose you can't. Thank you for having me over. And sorry I polished off the last of your cokes."

"Don't be sorry. It's nice having company for once," He admitted.

Ford gave a halfhearted smile, "I should probably get going." He opened the door and started to leave, but he was stopped with another warm touch on the shoulder.

"Hey," Fids grabbed his attention, "If you ever want to study or hang or just need someone to talk to, don't be a stranger. You're more than welcome here."

Ford nodded, "Thank you."

The door shut gently and Ford trudged down the two flights of stairs back to his room. It wasn't until he sat down at his desk that he realized that the empty coke bottle was still in his hand. He sat it towards the back of his desk so he wouldn't accidentally knock it off. He made a mental note to take it to a recycling bin in the morning on his way to class. Ford kicked off his shoes and undressed so that he was only in his briefs. He slipped into bed and tried to drift off to sleep, avoiding any thoughts of his brother and his anger towards him. With the lights shut off, there was still some remaining twilight illuminating the room. Ford stared at the shadows on the ceiling. He wasn't tired at all. It wasn't until much later that he was able to fall asleep and forget about his brother and just think about his new acquaintance Fiddleford. Maybe Fiddleford was actually his new friend. He never did remember to recycle his empty coke bottle.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Thanks for reading and thanks for all of the comments!_

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The bleating of Stanford's alarm clock pierced the silence of the room. With his eyes still closed, he reached around his nightstand until he found the off button and his glasses. He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes. With a yawn and a stretch, Ford was able to get up. He didn't sleep well last night, but then again, he hadn't sleep well for the past week. He put on a clean pair of charcoal colored pants and a mint green button-down. Once dressed, he made his way to the communal bathroom that was shared by all of the men on that level of the building. He sat his bag of toiletries next to one of the sinks and examined himself in the mirror. He looked tired and worn. He pulled out a comb and tried to tame his messy brown hair, but eventually gave up and left it. While brushing his teeth, he noticed that he was the only one in the bathroom. Sure, 6:00 was kind of early, but he had chapters to read, assignments to do, and his first class started at 8:00. Clearly no one else was quite as ambitious as him.

Stanford walked across the green campus, munching on an apple, which was his breakfast. He saw the dean a ways up the sidewalk with two formally dressed women holding clipboards. Although they were out of earshot, he was certain that the dean was giving his classic "mostly bug-free dorms" speech. It was then that Ford tripped on something lying across the sidewalk. He stumbled, but caught himself, and spun around to figure out what on Earth had tripped him. What appeared to be a stretched out tape measure was leading from the dormitories on one side, and through a small wooded area on the other. If there was one thing Stanford had for sure, it was a crippling curiosity. He just had to know what was on the other end, so he decided to follow it through the thicket of trees. He followed the yellow tape into a small clearing and was amazed at what he saw. In the center of the clearing was a tall wooden structure, a few feet taller than him. It took him a mere second to realize that it was a catapult. What amazed him the most, though, was Fiddleford standing next to it writing furiously on his clipboard.

"What in the world are you doing?" Stanford asked, staring at the contraption.

Fiddleford looked up from his notes and nearly squealed with joy, "Ford! I'm so glad you're here! I was just about to go and fetch you, here," He tossed a pair of goggles in Ford's direction, "safety first!"

"Is this a catapult?" He asked, putting on the goggles.

"Sure is! I've been working on it for a few days now. I'm just finishing up some final calculations. The trajectory has to be _just_ right." Fids beamed.

Ford walked up and touched one of the beams supporting it. He gave it a bit of a shove and found it to be very sturdy, "This is excellent craftsmanship. Is it made out of maple?"

"Pine, actually," Fids winked. He held up the end of his tape measure and pressed a button. The line came reeling in rapidly, and finished with a loud snap, "I'm getting ready to fire it, and I was hoping you'd like to stick around and watch."

Ford looked back up at the contraption, "Trust me, I'd really like to, but I'm going to be late for Chemistry."

"So am I, but that's never stopped me before." He shrugged.

"Wait, you're in my Chemistry class? I've never seen you in there before."

"Exactly, I'm always late!" Fids approached Ford, "I get up at 6 everyday and work on different things. The past couple of days, it's been this," He motioned to the catapult, "I've worked so hard on it, it's be a shame if its first launch didn't have an audience."

Ford tried to hide a smile, "Ok, fine, you've convinced me! Mostly because I really want to see this behemoth in action." He patted the pine supports.

"Yes!" Fids exclaimed, giving Ford a quick celebratory hug.

Ford's heart skipped a beat when Fiddleford's arms wrapped around him tightly. He was much stronger than he seemed.

"Here," Fids shoved his clipboard into Ford's hands, "you can go ahead at double check my math while I get everything ready."

Fids scampered over and began to crank the catapult, pulling back the basket into proper firing position. Ford squinted at the scribbles on the paper, "Your hand writing is kind of hard to read… is that a 6 or a 5?" He called.

Fiddleford walked back over to check, "Hmm… that's probably a 6."

Ford shrugged, "If you say so. Everything looks to be in order here," He looked at the catapult and noticed that the basket was filled with dozens of colored balloons and pointed towards the dormitories, "Do you need help turning it around?"

Fids looked confused, "Why would I turn it around?"

"Because it's pointing right at the college," Ford paused, letting it sink in, "What are you planning to do with this exactly, Fids?"

"Well, there's this guy, Franklin Spitz. Last year, he stole my schematics for my final in Carpentry. His dorm is on the 4th floor and he always leaved his window open, so I figured I'd send him a little "thank you" for stealing my A+ grade."

"Do you mean to tell me that you're using this the get revenge?" Ford interrogated.

Fids avoided eye contact, "Well, I wouldn't necessarily call it "revenge" per say, I'm just teaching him a lesson."

"That's what revenge means, Fids."

"Eh, tomato tomato," Fiddleford shrugged. He noticed the look of disapproval he was receiving, "C'mon Ford, don't pretend that there hasn't been someone in your life that's taken advantage of you and deserves some payback."

Ford's mind instantly went to his childhood bully, Crampelter.

"Just think about it," Fids continued, "this might be your only chance to make someone pay for their actions."

After a brief moment of thought, Ford finally gave in, "Alright, you got me, let's make this bully pay."

"Alright!" Fids lowered his goggles from the top of his head over the spectacles already perched on his nose. He hurried over to the release lever and prepared himself, "Firing in 3, 2, 1!"

With a firm tug, Fiddleford pulled the lever, making the catapult fire rather quickly, sending a barrage of balloons over the canopy of trees. He ran in the direction of his attack, motioning for Ford to follow him. The two quickly navigated through the thicket and poked their heads out to see the damage. Ford looked for the window Fiddleford was talking about, but it didn't look like a dorm that had just been pelted with water balloons. His gaze slowly drifted down until he saw what they had hit and froze. The dean was standing on the dirt path below the target, dripping wet. Fiddleford snatched the clipboard from Ford's hands and examined it closely.

"Yep," he nodded solemnly, "That's definitely a 5, not a 6."

The dean's face turned a shade of red that Stanford had only seen one other time, and that was when his father had dropped a heavy box on his foot.

"I think we should probably get going," Ford declared, grabbing Fiddleford's hand urgently, "Let's go!"

Ford took off, practically dragging an awestruck Fiddleford behind him. The two ran away from the scene of the crime, but stayed just inside the edge of the woods as to not be seen. Ford was scared out of his mind about what would happen to them. He could hear faint shouting as he picked up the pace, ducking and weaving around various trees and bushes. He could hear the shouting right on his tail like they were being followed. Ford gripped Fid's hand tighter and kept running as his lungs started to burn. He could finally make out the shouting that came from behind him and realized that it came from Fiddleford.

"Whoa! Ford! Slow down! It's ok, he's not following us! Ford! Stop!"

Ford stopped nearly immediately, but Fids didn't. The shorter boy crashed into him, sending the both of them toppling over. Fiddleford's weight landed right on Stanford's chest, and a knee managed to land on his groin.

Ford let out a yelp of pain, "Fuck!"

Fiddleford was dazed from the crashed. As soon as he realized where his knee had landed, he rolled off of Ford, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to run into you, I didn't expect you to stop like that."

Ford held the pained area and took deep breaths, "It's ok," He groaned, "It's not your fault. I just wish I had a cup for protection rather than these useless goggles."

Both of them lay there on their backs, staring up at the canopy above them, trying to catch their breath. It had taken a few minutes until Fiddleford broke the silence with a chuckle, "Did you see the dean's face?"

Ford couldn't help but laugh too, "His face was as red as a tomato!"

They both burst into laughter, not even worried about being discovered.

Ford let our a hearty sigh, "At least it was just water."

Fiddleford cleared his throat, "Yeah, um, about that…"

Ford turned on his side and propped himself up on one elbow, looking at Fiddleford inquisitively.

He avoided eye contact, looking everywhere except at Ford, "I might've sort of… accidentally… unintentionally…"

"Fiddleford, what did you put in those balloons?" He was sterner this time.

"Vinegar." He finally admitted.

"Vinegar balloons? At the dean? Dear God, I'm going to get expelled." Ford exclaimed.

"Well it's not like I was aiming for the dean! My calculations were just slightly off." Fids said in his defense, "And besides, you're the supposed math wiz that checked it. That makes you an accomplice."

Ford sat up and took off the goggles with one hand and rubbed his eyes under his glasses with the other. Fids sat up beside him. He reached over and started rubbing in small circles on the taller boy's back, sending foreign shivers up Ford's spine. He wasn't used to such gentle human contact, and usually avoided it. But this was different; Fiddleford actually soothed him and made his muscles relax.

"Hey, look, I'm sorry I dragged you into this, man," Fids removed his hand, leaving Ford with an almost empty feeling, "When they find out it was me, I won't mention your name. This was all my idea anyway."

Ford turned to him and nodded as to say "thank you".

Fids looked him up and down, his eyes catching on Ford's lips just long enough to be noticeable, "We should probably get to Chemistry," He reached up and removed a twig from Stanford's now disheveled hair, "Besides, we need an alibi," He winked.

Fiddleford helped him to his feet and the two both cautiously snuck their way to class, hoping not to see the dean on their way over. They tried to also sneak into their Chemistry class, but the door was much too squeaky to go unnoticed. Their professor stopped writing, mid formula, to see who had walked in.

"Mr. McGucket, late to my class, as expected. But Mr. Pines, I thought you were a better student than this." The professor announced with her hands on her hips.

Stanford started to say some kind of excuse, but Fiddleford cut him off, "I'm sorry, Ms. Jacobs. Stanford is a better student than this. It's my fault we're late. We were just, uh, going on a walk. Through the woods. And we, uh, got sort of lost."

Stanford glanced between the professor, Fiddleford, and all of the students watching. He caught glimpse of a rather noticeable twig caught in Fid's hair. Ford grabbed it in one swift motion, eliciting giggles from around the classroom.

The professor didn't seem too convinced, "Very well. Just make sure you take your next walk _after_ my class," The two boys nodded and started to head to their seats, "And Mr. Pines," Ford perked up, "If I were you, I'd be sure to not pick up bad habits from certain students."

They sat down next to each other and Ms. Jacobs continued her lecture. Ford tried to pay attention, but noticed a few heads turned around looking back at them. Some students were whispering to each other and some were giggling. Instinctively, Ford hid his abnormal hands under his desk, but then realized that wasn't what they were laughing at. It was then that he finally put it all together. Coming in late with a clearly made up excuse, messy hair, disheveled clothes, grass stains, twigs in their hair; it was all _more_ than suggestive of a romp in the woods. Ford could feel his face heat up from embarrassment. He looked at the disheveled Fiddleford, leaning back with his hands clasped behind his head and a satisfied smile on his face that almost made their "romp in the woods" seem believable. Ford shook his head, and then buried his face in his arms folded on the desk. It was almost too believable.


	4. Chapter 4

The day started with the smell of stale coffee and a rude awakening. Ford had been at Backupsmore for a little over two months now, and every night he succeeded in going above and beyond. Ford had the habit of staying up reading and studying until the sun started to come up. He also had the habit of skipping meals whenever he was completely engrossed in a project, dedicating as much of his time as he could to his studies. Ford dreamed about parabolas and quadratics, unable to really concentrate on anything else. His bed had become more of a bookshelf, his desk more like a bed, and his textbooks more like pillows. He often times would wake up with a pencil still firmly held in his hand and an unfinished equation punched into his waiting calculator. This morning wasn't much different from any other. The same ear-piercing alarm jolted him awake as if he had just received a thousand volts. He shot up in his chair with a piece of paper stuck to his cheek and his glasses askew. He felt as though there were sandbags tied to his eyelids, making it difficult to hold them open. The only thing keeping him conscious was the berating alarm clock. Ford plucked the stray paper from his face and straightened his spectacles. After a few minutes of fading in and out of consciousness, Ford finally gained the strength to stand and walk to his alarm on the other side of the room. It would be much easier for him to keep his clock on his desk where he could reach it, but Ford knew from past experience the he would just hit snooze repeatedly and miss class. He had given up on waking up at 6:00 every morning, considering he usually passed out around 5:00. If he skipped breakfast, he could wake up at 7:30 and still make it to class on time. Ford gathered the two empty coffee cups from his desk and tossed them into the growing heap of cups in his trashcan. He stretched his arms above his head, letting out a groan, and lowered himself back into his desk chair. Just as his rear was making contact with the seat, there was a loud knocking at his door. Ford groaned louder this time as he dragged himself to the door. He had only managed to turn the knob with a limp, sleepy hand when the person of this other side barged in.

"Mornin Sleeping Beauty!" Fiddleford greeted, strolling into the dim room.

Ford mumbled something incoherently as he slowly closed the door.

Fiddleford put his hands on his hips and shook his head, "Jesus, Ford. When did you go to bed last night?"

"After the sun started to come up." Ford slurred, rubbing his bloodshot eyes.

"You can't keep doing this, man," Fiddleford scolded, "you really need to take care of yourself."

Ford waved away the suggestion and yawned, "I'm fine Fids, don't worry about me."

"Don't worry about you?" Fids walked over to the window in a huff and yanked up the blinds. The flash of light burned Ford's eyes and made him wince.

"You're practically a zombie, Ford. You've got more bags under your eyes than Audrey Hepburn has in her closet," Fiddleford looked him up and down, "didn't you wear that yesterday?"

Ford looked at down at his outfit, "And the day before that, I think. But never mind that, I'm a busy man. I don't have time for things like picking out outfits. "

Fiddleford just shook his head again, "You have a 4.2 GPA, so why do you keep doing this to yourself?"

"Look, Fids, you just… you don't understand," Said Ford, starting to get irritated, "My GPA could be 4.3, 4.7, or fucking 400. Regardless, I would still work just as hard because I know I can do better and I need to do better. What's the point of furthering my education if I don't push myself as far as you'll go?"

"What's the point of living if we all die?" Fiddleford countered. He gave Ford a moment to think, and then continued, "The point is to enjoy life. You can't enjoy life if all you're doing is cramming your mind with information 24/7, and then spewing it back onto a piece of paper. You need to get out and experience life for what it is. Live a little. Grades are merely numbers and letters on a sheet of paper that you'll forget about in ten years time, but experiences and memories stick with you forever. No one can take those away from you."

Ford became defensive, "No one can take away your knowledge either. If I ever am outside and get bit by a snake, I'd be grateful for memorizing the 22 species of snake in New Jersey and whether or not the one that bit me is venomous; stopping to smell the roses definitely wouldn't save my life. I'm making the most of my time and money. I'm ensuring future financial security and knowledge to pass on to future generations."

"Knowledge is by no means a bad thing, Stanford; that's not what I'm getting at. What I'm saying is that you're going to kill yourself if you keep doing this! Take a break, go for a walk, go to the theatre, really anything would be better than sitting inside for weeks on end. Hell, when was the last time you even ate anything?" Fids was almost shouting at this point.

Stanford stood there silently for a moment. He noticed how upset this was making Fiddleford., but he couldn't understand why he was so angry. It was Ford's body, so why should he care what he does with it?

Fiddleford took a deep breath and composed himself, "Just… just wait here." He shuffled past the zombie of a man and out the door.

Ford stood there, unsure of what to do about Fids blowing up on him like that. The room felt empty and much too quiet. He looked at himself in a tiny circular mirror hanging on the wall. His hair was matted on one side, and incredibly poofy on the other, ant it almost looked as though he had two black eyes. He hadn't shaved in the past couple of days, and his beard grew slightly unevenly. There was a small coffee stain near the collar of his wrinkled sweater. It wasn't until he looked down at his hands that he realized he was still clutching his pencil from note taking late last night. Ford threw it at his desk and slammed his textbook shut out of frustration. He suddenly felt a strong urge to shower, shave, and put on clean clothes. He wasn't entirely sure when or if Fiddleford would come back, so he decided to take a quick shower in the communal bathroom. He grabbed his towel, clothes, and toiletries and hurried down the hallway, dodging other well-groomed students. After he returned to his room, he was relieved that he didn't miss Fiddleford's return. Ford felt much better; much more like a human being. His hair was now combed through nicely, his face clean-shaven, (he only nicked himself once on the chin) and a new blue shirt with a brown vest. Ford was in the middle of making his bed when the door creaked open. Fiddleford entered with a small paper sack in hand. When he looked up, he was stupefied by Ford's appearance. His lips curved into a smile as he shut the door, unable to take his eyes off of Stanford.

"You clean up really nice," Fids commented. His demeanor suddenly changed and he seemed ashamed, "I'm sorry for dumping on you like that, Ford. That was uncalled for on my part."

"No, don't apologize," Ford stepped closer to the other boy, "You're right, this isn't good for me. I need to take a break from studying every once in a while… and shower."

They both chuckled at that and shared a comfortable silence.

"So," Ford said, breaking the silence, "What's in the bag?"

Fiddleford snapped out of an almost dream like phase, "Oh, yeah! I almost forgot," He sat the sack on the edge of the messy desk and fished out a muffin wrapped in plastic wrap, a banana, an apple, and several slices of toast in a plastic baggie, "Breakfast."

Ford didn't realize how hungry he was until he took the first bite. Fiddleford just watched on, smiling, as Ford scarfed down his food in the most polite way possible. When he finished off the last of his breakfast, Ford looked at his clock and noticed that his first class of the morning had started 2 minutes ago.

"Oh shit! I'm late!" Ford sprang up from his seat and grabbed a textbook and random papers. He shoved them into his satchel as papers flew around the room from all of the commotion, "Thanks so much for the meal Fids, but I've got a test today and I was cramming all night, so I have to take it before I forget everything. Thanks again!"

He threw an arm around the other boy for a quick, thankful hug before he practically sprinted out the door. Papers, still in free-fall, settled to the ground like a blanket of snow. Fiddleford noticed that Ford had left in such a hurry that he had forgotten his shoes next to the bed. Fids chuckled to himself and laid back on Ford's bed _. Baby steps_ , he thought, _baby steps_.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: This chapter is a bit longer than usual, but I decided that the story needed some kind of mystery, so I guess we'll see how it goes! Yet again, thanks for all of the positive comments, they make my day!_

* * *

Stanford took his seat at his usual lunch table. Most days, he would sit at the table with just Fiddleford, but other than that, it was usually deserted. Of course, every once in a while, this couple would sit at the very far end of it and talk loudly back and forth. He knew the girl, Emma, because she sat next to Ford in Anatomy. He wasn't sure who the boy was, though, but either way, the boy had a very obnoxious laugh. Ford looked down at his dismal tray that consisted of an orange, a few carrot sticks, and, the cafeteria's special, frozen pizza. He absentmindedly munched on some carrots while he scanned the room for Fiddleford. Fids was usually seated first with a heaping plate of everything the cafeteria offered, but he was missing. The couple that occasionally sat at the end of the table arrived with a roar of laughter. Ford glared at them. _Do they have to be so loud?_ He thought. _We get it! You two are in love and it's disgusting! I hope to never be that obnoxious, I mean, honestly, do they have to hold hand across the table? I'm never going to do that lovey-dovey nonsense with anyone._ A loud smack made Ford jump. Fids had run up and slammed his tray on the table in a frenzy of excitement, "Hey Ford!" He said, swinging his legs over the bench to sit, "Eat quickly! I've got the most exciting thing to show you after lunch! You're going to love it."

"What is it?" Ford was intrigued.

"It's a little complicated to explain, you'll see it when we get there." Fids assured, taking a large bite from his pizza. He glanced over and saw the couple, "Looks like the lovesick puppies decided to join us today."

"I wish they hadn't" Ford mumbled.

Fids looked confused, "Why is that?"

"It's disgusting! Just look at them," He said in a hushed voice, "do they have to rub it in other people's faces like that?"

Fids shrugged, "I think it's sweet."

"Sweet?" He spat out the word as if it hurt him to say it.

"Yeah, sweet. Just look at them, they're the kind of people fighting for the peace movement in all the right ways. Make love, not war."

"It's still a public display of affection and has no place in a professional setting." Ford huffed, crossing his arms.

"Professional setting, huh?" Fids laughed, "There's nothing wrong with them holding hands and enjoying each other's company. What do you have against hand holding anyway?"

"Nothing, it's just… it's just annoying." Ford refused to budge.

Fiddleford decisively wiped his hand on a napkin and laid it across the table, "Here, hold my hand."

"Why?" Ford leaned back, shying away from the offer.

"Just do it," Said Fids. After no response, he continued, "C'mon Ford, it's not like I have cooties or anything, my mom had me tested. I just want to show you that there ain't nothing wrong with hand holding."

With a heavy sigh, Stanford reluctantly grabbed Fids hand. He was surprised at how soft and warm it was, and he didn't shy away when Fiddleford tightened his grip. Ford could feel and hear his heart pumping and his face growing red. He thought that surely it was from the embarrassment of the situation, but then again, Fids' had was so warm and soft.

"You see?" Fiddleford finally said after a moment, "There's nothing wrong with hand holding. We're just two perfectly normal guys just holding hands. It's natural."

A short, round girl with glasses much to large for her face was walking past the duo when she stopped, "Aww," She placed her hand over her heart, "you two are so cute."

"Why thank you." Fiddleford acknowledged, still trying to prove his point.

Ford felt his face become incredibly hot and he pulled his hand away quickly, hiding both of them under the table. The girl kept walking and Fids turned back around to see a flustered Stanford.

"You're impossible, Ford," He chuckled, finishing off his pizza.

The two ate and engaged in small talk. Ford was still trying to calm down his speeding heart. Fiddleford finished and leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head.

"So," Stanford started, "What's that thing that you're going to show me?"

Fiddleford looked puzzled, "What?"

"The thing. The thing you said I was going to love and needed to hurry to see."

Fiddleford's eyes grew huge as he remembered what he had been in such a rush for, "Oh yeah! I completely forgot! Come on, we've got to hurry," He sprang up at started to leave.

"Wait," Ford said, standing up as well, "can't we at least dump our trays?"

"There's no time for that!" Fids started walking swiftly with Ford right on his heels.

"Yet you had time to hold my hand?"

"That-uh, that isn't important," He reassured, "What is important is this really exciting thing I have to show you!"

The two hurried out of the cafeteria and down several different hallways until they finally arrived at their destination. Fids checked left and right, making sure they weren't being followed, and slipped in through the door, pulling Ford along.

"The auditorium? What's so special about it?" Ford looked around, trying to find something grand, but to no avail.

Fiddleford hopped up on stage with a huge smile on his face. He waited to give his explanation until Ford managed to climb up there too.

"Well? What's the thing?" Ford asked.

Fiddleford cleared his throat; "First of all, I need to tell you about how I happened upon this. I was on that ladder in the back corner of the stage and-"

"Why were you up on the ladder?"

"I needed to _borrow_ some of the stage lights for a project I'm working on. But anyway, that's beside the point. The point is that while I was up there, I heard footsteps. The dean's footsteps."

"Wait, this is about the dean?" Ford interrupted, "Can't you just leave the poor man alone? It's bad enough you hit him with vinegar balloons a few months ago?"

"Hold on, let me finish. He walked across the stage and into the costume room, which is weird, because I don't know why the dean would need a costume. Anyway, when he left, he looked awfully shifty, so naturally, I followed him. He went outside and behind the building. I hid around the corner, out of sight, where I overheard him talking to the janitor. The dean said "Here's the code, you better guard this thing with your life. We can't risk anyone finding out." And then they both went their separate ways."

Ford scratched his chin, "That does seem awfully suspicious… Have you checked the costume room?"

"Nope, I figured we should check it together."

Ford nodded, "Well, let's go see what's so very interesting in there."

Stanford led the way. He could sense a mystery afoot, and crossed his fingers, hoping it wasn't easily explained. They stepped in and looked around. The room was small since it was concealed backstage. Dresses and suits hung from a rack that ran the length of the navy blue room. On the other side, there was a cabinet full of accessories like jewelry, glasses, and ties. Next to that were four lockers. Ford opened them one by one. The first one was filled with useless scraps of paper. The second one had a few outfits and a little box of light bulbs, which Ford saw Fids snag out of the corner of his eye. The third had a lock, and the fourth was empty.

"Hmm, looks like we figured out where that code the dean mentioned goes," Ford examined. He jiggled the lock up and down; "You always carry a wide variety of tools on your person. Got any that can bust a lock?"

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," Said Fiddleford, "If we break it, the dean will know that we've been snooping."

Ford nodded, "Quite right. Do you know how to pick a lock? You're the mechanics guy here."

"Well first of all, it's a combination lock," Fids observed, "So you can't exactly pick it. Secondly, we have no way of knowing the combination. There's over 64,000 possibilities, so unless you plan on sitting here and putting in every single one, I don't see us getting into that locker anytime soon."

"Well," He started, "If you were to do one combination every minute, that's 1440 combinations a day. At that rate, it'd take roughly 44 days to crack."

"Um…no, we're definitely _not_ doing that," Fids crossed his arms.

Ford shrugged, "Eh, it was worth a shot. Gee, I wonder what's in there. Maybe there's gold, or a head in a jar!"

Fids cringed at the thought, "Yuck, I hope not."

The two just looked at the locker for a moment, unsure of what they should do at this point.

Fiddleford let out a sigh, "I'm sorry I got your hopes up. I really thought we'd make a spectacular discovery of some sort."

"But there is a spectacular discovery to be made! We just need to work at it. Maybe there's a clue in this room somewhere; Let's look."

Fiddleford rummaged through the dresses that hung from the rack while Ford looked through the other lockers again.

"I found something!" Fiddleford announced with the upper half of his body buried in dresses.

Ford was on the scene almost immediately, "What is it?"

Fiddleford wiggled and popped out to the sound of static electricity. He struggled to separate the dresses, but eventually created a widow through which you could see the wall behind them. Painted on the wall was a large green snake wrapped around in a spiral. Ford walked up and touched the edge of the symbol, "This is strange. Very strange indeed."

"I agree, but I don't see what it has to do with the locker." Said Fids.

Ford looked back and forth between the painting and the locker. It was then that he spotted something he hadn't seen before. At the bottom of the locker, the corner of a piece of paper was just barely sticking out. Ford just barely managed to pinch the paper between his fingers and pull it out. Fids watched over his shoulder as they both realized what it was.

"A map!" Ford exclaimed.

"I knew it!" Fids chimed in, "I knew this wasn't just another one of my crazy conspiracies!"

Ford looked over the map for a moment. A line, indicating the path to take, weaved around the dorms, lecture halls, and main building in the shape on an "S". Up in the right hand corner was the same snake that was painted on the wall.

"This is… this is huge. We've really uncovered something, Fids. I'm not sure what yet, but it's definitely something." Ford turned to leave, "Come on! We've got to see where this leads!"

The duo followed the trail, making sure that they remained as inconspicuous as possible. The cold wind carried crystals of ice that made that stung their faces. Fiddleford followed, keeping a look out for the dean or the janitor, while Ford led, his eyes glued to the map, taking in every detail. He stopped suddenly when he reached the end of the trail, causing Fids to bump into him.

"Is this it?" The shorter boy asked, looking around, "Under the bleachers?"

"It would appear so," Ford nodded, examining his surroundings for any possible clues. He could hear football players practicing and see an endless amount of gum stuck to the underside of the bleaches above him, but other than that, there wasn't anything of significance.

Fids stuck his hands in his pockets, "Looks like a dead end to me. Damn."

"This can't be it," Ford scrutinized the map in disbelief, "There has to be something else!"

"Maybe you read the map wrong." Fids suggested, trying to be helpful.

"Impossible," Ford barked, "I know how to read a map. Maybe it's on top of the bleachers." He started to leave, his face buried in the map again, when Fiddleford grabbed his sleeve, making him stop, "What?"

Fiddleford merely stared at the ground, and Ford looked to see what he had discovered. They were standing on a giant snake drawn in chalk on the cement.

"Whoa." Said Ford.

"Double Whoa." Said Fids.

"What does it mean?" Ford asked, not really expecting an answer.

"I'm not sure," Fiddleford started, "I mean, obviously the dean is connected somehow, and so is the janitor. As for the snakes, I really don't know."

Ford perked up, "Wait wait wait, say that again."

"As for the sna-"

"Before that."

"The dean and the janitor are connected?"

"Yes!" Ford nearly squealed with excitement, "The janitor! He knows something. We've got to investigate. Do you know where his custodial closet is at?"

Fids laughed, "Ford, do I look like the kind of guy who completely ignores a stock pile of chemicals? Of course I know where it is." He placed his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest proudly.

"Good," Ford folded the map and stuffed it into his coat pocket, "I think it's time we paid the janitor a visit."

* * *

"This is it," Fiddleford motioned. The door lacked a window and was open just a crack.

Ford grabbed the other boy's hand and darted in quickly, before they could be noticed, shutting and locking the door behind them. He flicked on the light and glanced around at the endless bottles and brooms.

Fiddleford smirked, "I see how it is."

Ford was confused, "See how what it?"

" _Now_ you're ok with hand holding."

Ford looked down, just now realizing that he had grabbed his hand on the way in. His face immediately started burning and he let go once he realized what he had done.

"It's ok," Fids reassured, "I don't blame you, I'm pretty irresistible, but you could at least take me out to dinner first."

"I-Th-this is different," He stammered, "I just- I was just making sure we got in here quickly in an orderly manner."

Fids chuckled, "Hey, relax man, I'm just joking!"

Ford didn't appreciate the joke, so he just decided to continue to look for clues. Nothing popped out at him, and there were no serpents that he could see. The only thing that was out of the ordinary was a half-empty bottle of liquor hidden behind several chemicals, but then again, that didn't really seem out of the ordinary either.

Ford shook his head, "There's nothing here."

"Nothing." Fids agreed.

"Come on, let's get out of here before he comes back and we get expelled," Said Ford. Just as he went to reach for the knob, someone from the other end started to turn it.

"Shit shit shit shit!" Fids said in a hushed voice.

The door was locked, so the person stopped twisting. Just as the two let out a sigh of relief, they heard the jingling of someone looking for the key.

"We're dead, we're dead, we're expelled," Fids continued to ramble, hands clutched in his hair.

Luckily, Ford was a quick thinker and worked best under stress, so, naturally, he undid his belt and dropped his pants.

Fiddleford's face grew incredibly red at the sight, "What the hell are you doing? Now is not the time!"

Ford moved across the small space in one quick movement, pinning Fids against the wall.

Fids began to panic, "F-Ford, if this is your way of asking me out-"

Ford forcefully covered the boy's mouth with one hand and started unbuttoning Fid's shirt with the other, "Shut up!" He ordered in a hot, breathy voice.

Just then, the person on the other side of the door found the key and had twisted the knob, swinging the door wide open.


	6. Chapter 6

"Oh my goodness!" Exclaimed a familiar voice. Much to the boys' surprise, it was not in fact the janitor who had unlocked the closet. It was the couple that sat at the end of their lunch table.

"I'm so sorry," said the girl, Emma, "I thought we were the only ones who came here to make out, that's why we stole the key." She smiled, jingling the tiny metal key. Ford and Fids were both terrified. Neither of them could think of what to do or say, given their compromising position. All they could do was stare with a "deer in the headlights" look.

Emma finally cut into the awkward silence, "Well, I guess we'll just leave you two to it! Have fun!" She winked, closing the door.

Ford shook his head, letting out a deep breath, "I can't believe that worked." He backed up, releasing Fiddleford from the wall.

Fids' face was beet red and he was still in a sort of daze, "Yeah, it-that was, um," He cleared his throat, "an excellent plan. You uh, you're quick on your feet, Ford, I'll give ya that." Fids shifted around, unsure of what to do with his hands and avoiding eye contact.

Ford shrugged, "It was just instinct I suppose." His voice faded, the last word was almost a whisper, as their eyes caught and locked onto each other.

By this time, Fids had recovered from the shock of Ford's "plan", and was nearly back to his normal, witty self, "Instincts to pull your pants down?"

Ford's eyes grew wide as he realized that he was still in his underwear. He immediately bent down and started to dress himself, but it was too late, Fids had observed the graphic on Stanford's boxers.

"Dungeons Dungeons and More Dungeons?" Fids smirked.

Ford stopped in the middle of buckling his pants, trying to think of a reasonable excuse, "They were… a gift! For Christmas, from my mom."

Fids squinted his eyes, "I bet they were."

"Just… never mind, let's get out of here before anyone else has to see them. Also, you might want to button your shirt back up." Ford said, shuffling past.

They both managed to slip out of the closet undetected. They walked down the hall until they reached a small lounge area to discuss what to do next.

"I feel like we've got more than enough clues to mull over for the rest of the day. We should let it brew overnight and reconvene in the morning. What time is it anyway?" Ford asked.

Fids glanced up at the clock on the wall, "About 3:15."

"Well there's no point in me going back to class. If you need me, I'll be in my dorm… or the library… or wherever my research takes me."

He started to leave, but Fiddleford stopped him, "Hey, Ford, thanks for doing this with me. I knew I could count on you."

Ford smiled, "Someone has to make sure you don't blow your cover," He patted Fids on the shoulder, "I'll see you tomorrow."

When Fiddleford had arrived at his friend's dorm the next morning, he received a different greeting than he usually did. Instead of a sleepy groan and a tired Ford, he was greeted by a hushed voice through the cracked door.

"Were you followed?" Said the voice.

"Was I what?"

"Were you followed?" The voice reiterated, more demanding this time.

Fids was uncertain, "I don't think I was. Why would I have been fol-"

He was cut off when an arm lurched out, grabbed his sweater, and pulled him inside. He was pushed to the side while Ford closed the door quickly. Fids looked around the dimly lit room. There were a dozen mythology books strewn about, opened to random pages. On the wall was a large collage of pictures of fellow students, the dean, snake symbols, and drawings of strange snakelike people all connected with different lengths of red string.

"Hey, Ford," said Fids timidly, "Everything okay buddy?"

Ford turned around, mythology book in hand, "Better than okay! Everything is lining up! It all makes sense!" His eyes were bloodshot, and he gave off the faint odor of coffee and B.O.

"What makes sense? The snakes?"

"The snakes, the dean, the locker, all of it! I was up all night researching and hypothesizing, and now I think I've figured it all out!" Ford motioned to his collage on the wall.

"So," Fids asked, "What does it all mean? What's the answer?"

"Nagas!" Ford declared.

Fids put up his hands, "Whoa man, that's a little racist of you, and that's coming from someone from down south. And after all of that civil rights stuff too…"

Ford shook his head, "No no no, _Nagas_ , the mythical creatures."

"Oh," Fids murmured, realizing that Ford wasn't racist, just insane.

"They're half human, half snake," He handed the book he was holding to Fids so he could see a picture of one, "They're prevalent in many different religions and cultures. Hinduism, Buddhism, the list goes on. They have the torso, arms, and head of a human, but their lower half in like the tail of a snake."

"Like a snake mermaid?" Fids asked.

"Exactly! Most of the time, they're either gods or spirits that are known for bringing rains or fertility. In other cases, though, they're summoned by mortals to guard treasure. In the case of Hinduism, women gather at Hindu temples to worship Nagas. They'll carve snakes into stone and use it as a point to contact the Naga."

Fids hesitated, "What exactly does this have to do with the dean?"

"Don't you see? The dean is a Naga! He was summoned to guard the locker! Someone put all of those snake symbols and used them to contact the Naga. Then, they hired him to guard the treasure that's in the locker. I'm not sure what he'll get in return for this. That's the part I'm scared of. If he doesn't like his payment, there's no telling what he'll do. In everything I've read, you do _not_ want to piss off a Naga. They can bring floods, droughts, and other natural disasters. I came to the conclusion that the dean is the Naga because he started only last year after the previous dean died of 'mysterious causes'. Also, it makes sense why the Naga would come in the form of a superior rather than a student or something like that. Nagas are used to being seen as Gods, and the dean is the highest rank in the college. So you see? It all makes sense."

Fids had a very skeptical look plastered on his face, "Maybe you should, like, take a nap or something." He said very gently.

"Why?" Ford asked; the wild look still in his eyes.

"Because you just seem a little… uh… crazy?" Fids softly closed the book he was holding.

"Damn it," Ford pinched the bridge of his nose, "I knew this would happen. Looks, Fids, you just need to reexamine the facts. It's all right here! The dean is a Naga! You have to believe it!"

"Do I believe in aliens? Yes. Do I believe in ghosts? Why the hell not. Do I believe that the dean is actually a snake mermaid protecting a hidden treasure in the school?"

"Naga." Ford corrected him.

"Naga, snake man, it doesn't matter, Ford, it all sounds completely ridiculous." Fids crossed his arms.

"Fids, let me prove it to you. Tonight I'm going to break into the dean's office and look through his things to see if I can find further evidence. I'm hoping that you'll come with me. We started this together, let's end it together." Ford's expression had softened. He really wanted Fids to believe him, or, at least, entertain the thought.

Fids tapped his foot and looked at the collage, then the books, and then Ford's hopeful face, "Fine, but only because I want to rifle through his personal belongings."

"Yes!" Ford cheered. He wrapped his burly arms around Fids, hoisting him off the ground and twirling in circles. When he finally put him back on the ground, they both chuckled.

Fids shook his head with a dopy smile on his face, "What on earth have I gotten myself in to."

* * *

 _A/N: Sorry for the late update, I've been really sick lately, but, nonetheless, managed to write a chapter. This one's kind of short, but believe me, things are going to get pretty interesting here soon ;) Thanks for all of the support!_


	7. Chapter 7

Ford knocked excitedly at Fids' door. When he finally answered the door, Ford couldn't help but laugh, "What on earth are you wearing?"

Fids looked down at his outfit, which consisted of nothing but the color black, "These are my breaking and entering clothes."

"You can't wear those, you'll blow our cover. If someone spots us on the way over, they'll know we're up to no good… Is that a crowbar?" Ford pointed to the things dangling in Fids' hand.

"…Maybe."

Ford shook his head and chuckled, "Could you be anymore green? C'mon, I'll find something for you to wear." Ford made his way into the room and tossed the duffle bag he was carrying onto the bed. The same earthy tones greeted his nose, along with the sharp scent of freshly applied cologne. He pulled back the door to Fids' closet and began riffling through the various articles of clothing hanging there.

Fiddleford sat on the bed, pondering, while he waited for his makeover, "Y'know, there's something that I haven't been able to figure out," He swung his legs back and forth, "If the dean is part snake, why isn't he… you know… part snake? Like, why is he bipedal?"

"Simple, he can change his form to blend in." Ford said matter-of-factly.

Fids shook his head, "You really believe this, don't you."

"I _know_ it." Ford stated.

"I _know_ you think that he's some magical creature, but, where I'm from, we just call that crazy."

"Where _I'm_ from, we call people like you a wet blanket." Ford countered, still sifting through clothes.

Fids chuckled, "I guess you got me there, Fordsie."

There was a pang in Ford's chest when he heard that. He hadn't been called Fordsie in a while, at least, not since his brother had left. _Stop that_ , Ford thought to himself, _there's no time for feeling sad, just focus on the mission at hand._

"Have you found anything yet?" Fids asked, interrupting Ford's train of thought.

"Hold your horses, I'm looking. I didn't know that you had so many different sweaters. I don't get how-" Ford stopped when he landed a t-shirt. He yanked the shirt out of the closet and spun around with one hand on his hip, "And you made fun of my underwear!"

The shirt he had pulled out had Dungeons Dungeons and More Dungeones on it, Probabilitor and all.

"It's a good game!" Fids crossed his arms, defending himself, "At least I don't have Probabilitor on my crotch!"

Ford squinted his eyes, "Touché."

After a few more moments of rummaging, he found an adequate top, "Here," Ford said, tossing the shirt at Fids, "your pants are fine, just go ahead and change into that."

Fids immediately pulled off the black sweatshirt he had been wearing without warning. Ford's heart skipped a beat as he watched Fids strip down to his bare chest. He didn't even realize that he had been staring until Fiddleford spoke up.

"Enjoying the show?" He asked, sliding the new shirt over his head.

"Pfft, y-you wish!" Ford tried to make himself seem less flustered, and reached a hand backwards to lean against the wall. But of course, he forgot that it was the closet that was behind him, and he fell through the hanging garments, landing flat on his butt.

Fids let out a hearty laugh, "Oh Ford, you keep me going." He hopped up and walked over to see Ford accepting his shame on the floor, "Need a hand?"

Ford took Fids hand, allowing him to pull him out of the closet.

"Thanks," Ford said, "let's go ahead and get this show on the road. The dean should be out of his office by now."

The duo crept out of the room and down the stairs, being sure to check around corners as they went. As soon as they stepped outside, the cold wind hit them like a wall. Fids walked very close behind Stanford so he could use him to block the wind, which ended up being quite effective. The gusts had calmed down when they were over halfway across the campus. They had yet to see any campus security guards, let alone a living soul, but remained vigilant.

"So," Fids said in a hushed voice, "Sorry to challenge your Naga knowledge, but how do we know that thing isn't expecting us?"

Ford nodded, "Actually, that's very likely. We might get in there and the thing is just waiting for us. Waiting to strangle us to death with its long, scaly tale, and then unhinge its jaw and swallow us whole. Maybe it's venomous, and it'll bite us and kill us slowly. Maybe it'll just torture us, or take us back to its lair and eat us later. Hell, anything could happen! Isn't it exciting?"

"You and I have two very different definitions of exciting. Y'know, I thought this would be a fun little mystery for us to solve, and maybe we'd find the dean's secrete liquor stash or something, but now you're starting to scare me…"

"Don't worry, Fids. That's why I brought this." Ford smiled at his counterpart and patted the duffle bag hanging by his side.

"Unless you've got a shotgun in there, I'm gonna worry." Fids retorted.

Ford chuckled, but didn't reveal what he had packed for the trip. When they reached the main building, Ford pressed gently on the front door and was shocked to find out that it wasn't locked.

"That's… bizarre."

"It's almost like… like it _is_ expecting us," Fids whispered, his voice wavering. He paused for dramatic effect before adding, "Well, I'm going to head home and call it a night. Bye! Tell the Naga I said sweet dreams!" He turned to walk away, but Ford caught him by the collar.

"Oh no you don't! It's too late to chicken out now." Ford scolded.

"On the contrary, I think it's the perfect time to chicken out."

Ford pinched the bridge of his nose, "Fids, c'mon, let's just get in there and get it over with."

Fiddleford still hung back from the entrance hesitantly.

Ford knew that he needed to bring out the big guns. He tried his best to imitate the face he always made when he would beg his mother to buy him a new microscope, "Please? For Me?"

Fids let out a heavy sigh, "You're going to get me killed. You know that, right?"

Ford smiled, holding the door open for his scaredy-cat sidekick, "I thought you didn't believe in mythical creatures."

"I don't, but you're enthusiasm is terrifying." Fids admitted, skulking through the door and into the dark building.

As soon as they were inside, Ford placed his bag on the ground and bent over to look through it. He retrieved two flashlights and handed one to Fids. They both made their way down the hallway, Ford, eager to start, and Fids, eager to get it over with. They reached the end of the hallway and stopped right outside of the dean's office. Ford cupped his hands on the window and tried to peak in, but the glass was frosted over, and it was pitch black inside. He tried the handle, but it was locked.

"So, Fids, remember when I asked you if you knew how to pick a lock?" Ford asked.

Fiddleford rolled his eyes and got down on one knee to examine the lock. He held out his hand, "Got a paper clip?"

Ford dug through his pockets and managed to find one. He was the look out while Fids worked away with precision. It took roughly a minute for him to successfully pick the lock. He immediately backed up after the job was done, "You can go first."

It was Ford's turn to roll his eyes, "You're impossible." He turned the handle and crept in slowly, making sure no one was in there. He shined his flashlight at the big leather chair behind the desk, and was relieved when there wasn't a monster sitting in it. Fid closed the door behind him and they began their search. Ford started at the bookcase, and Fiddleford looked at some of the knickknacks on the desk.

"What exactly is it that we're supposed to be looking for?" Fids asked, bobbing a bobble head of a mustached baseball player.

"Anything incriminating, really. Just look for anything odd or out of place," Said Ford as he examined how dusty the bookshelf was; all except for one book, which, you could see the line in the dust where it had been removed and replaced recently, "Like this…" Ford pulled the book off of the shelf ever so carefully. He turned around to show it to Fiddleford, "This is the only one that's been used recently." He opened it up, revealing the book had been hollowed out. Inside was a small, clear bag of a green substance, "What's this?" Ford asked, holding it up.

Fids started chuckling, "Right on, man!"

"What? What is it?"

Fids gave Ford a knowing smile, "It's the _good_ stuff."

Ford looked puzzled, "I still don't get it. What kind of good stuff? Did he use it for a spell or something?"

Fids shook his head, "No no no, I mean _the_ good stuff. Y'know?"

Ford still didn't quite get it.

"Dude, it's grass."

Ford was even more confused now, "Grass? Who would hide grass? There's plenty of it outside; the stuff's everywhere!"

Fids dropped his head into his hands out of frustration, "No Ford, it's weed! Mary Jo! Marijuana!"

Ford's eyes grew wide in his realization, "Oh God!" He dropped the baggie back into the book.

"Calm down, Ford, it's not gonna bite. Here," Fids took the book, "I'll put this back and you can check out his desk. I think I saw something incriminating on a clipboard."

Ford immediately turned back into stealth mode while Fids the book back on the shelf, slightly more hollow than it was originally. Stanford flipped through useless papers that littered the desk. When he lifted up a large folder, his blood ran cold, and he pulled out a piece of paper with a shaky hand, "F-Fids." He all but whispered.

Fiddleford wandered over, "Yes?"

"Look."

He did look, and when he did, his heart sunk. They were looking at a list, a list of student's names. There were about 20 listed, and the top 12 had been crossed out in an eerie red ink. It wasn't this that shocked them. It was student number 13.

 _Fiddleford H. McGucket_

"Wh-Why is my name next?" Fids asked, but he received no response. He started to panic, "Ford, why is my name next?"

Ford was just as shocked, "I… I don't know. Maybe he's writing letters of recommendation?"

"Ford, what the hell are you talking about? The guy hates me! I've started three fires in the lecture hall and two in the men's' restroom, there's no way this is a good list." He ran a hand through his hair nervously, "What if it's a hit list? What if he kills me?" Fiddleford grabbed Ford by the shoulders, "The dean is going to murder me!"

"Get ahold of yourself Fiddleford!" Ford commanded, hushing him, "You are going to be fine. There's no way that I would let the dean kill you, besides, how do we know that he even wants to kill you?"

"You're dead meat!" Came a booming voice that didn't belong to Stanford or Fiddleford. The frightened boys jumped as the voice shouted and the lights came on. Their eyes hurt from the sudden flash of light, but they both could still tell who was now standing in the doorway. The dean.


	8. Chapter 8

Ford couldn't tell if his heart was racing or if it had stopped all together. This was definitely not according to plan. Ford had thought out how he would approach the dean several times, and came up with many different scenarios, but this wasn't one of them. The thought of running into the dean here didn't even really cross his mind until Fiddleford had mentioned it earlier.

The dean took a few menacing steps toward them, boiling with anger. His footsteps sounded like gunshots to Ford's ears, and he wondered how they hadn't heard him walking up earlier. The dean's beaklike nose and beady eyes darted back and forth between the pair of intruders, "What the hell are you boys doing in here? You think you can just break into my office?" A pulsing vein on his forehead seemed to grow larger with every word spoken through his clenched teeth.

Ford felt Fids grab his arm tightly. He didn't know if it was out of fear, or if it was a signal for Ford to answer the question, so he went ahead and put on a brave face, "How did you know we were in here?" He asked, trying to hide the waver in his voice.

"I didn't," the dean retorted, "I just came back because I left my briefcase, but it looks like I caught myself a couple of delinquents. Do you boys have any idea how much trouble you're in? I'm not _just_ going to expel you both, I'm going to call the police and have them decide what to do with you!" It looked like the vein in his head was going to pop.

Ford felt the grip on his arm tighten, so he pressed on further, "You can drop the act. We both know what you really are, you monster."

The dean crossed his arms, "Oh yeah, smart-ass? And what's that?"

"You're a Naga! A creature summoned to guard that locker in the auditorium!" Ford accused, matching the dean's anger.

The dean shuddered at the word "Naga" and his expression became a rollercoaster, from anger to fear to confusion and back to anger, "How the hell do you know about that locker? Have you been following me or something? Because that's another charge I can discuss with the police!"

"It doesn't matter how we found out, all that matters is that you're a horrid creature and a threat to all of the students here!" Ford nearly shouted.

"What in God's name do you mean?" The dean seemed genuinely confused.

"You know what I'm talking about, don't play dumb! I know you're a Naga, and that you're guarding something precious in that locker of yours. What is it? Gold? Jewels? Guns?"

He smiled, as if he had outsmarted Ford, "I suppose I could tell you, since you'll be in jail by the morning anyway .You want to know what's in that locker? You want to know what I've been guarding this whole time?"

Fids grip tightened again, and Ford perked up, eager to finally know the truth.

"The locker is full of Marijuana. I've been selling weed to the students, and that's where I keep it all to divert suspicion." The dean blurted.

There was a heavy silence that hung in the air while the two boys soaked it in. There were a few brief moments of menacing looks from the dean before the silence was broken.

"Why is my name next?" Fids all but whispered. Ford had almost forgotten he was there.

"What?" The dean asked.

"Why is my name next?" He repeated in the same tone, only louder this time.

The dean's eyes flickered to his desk, and he saw his ominous list lying on top, "Because I was going to ask you to buy some next."

Fids took a moment to process the new information. He still didn't know if it was a good list or a bad list.

"Well, there you go, smart-ass! Happy? Glad you know my little secret? Now you can be satisfied on your way to jail. I'm calling the police." The dean marched past Stanford, making sure to bump into him, and went to his phone on his desk.

Ford felt his world come crashing down around him. This isn't how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to be right, clever, and brave. He wasn't supposed to be wrong, foolish, and scared. He was supposed to be top of his class, the alpha student, and a good role model. He wasn't supposed to be breaking and entering, a delinquent, and expelled. He was supposed to be a hero. He wasn't supposed to be on his way to jail. A numbness broke out all through his body. He wished that this was all a dream, and in a few seconds, he'd wake up in his bed. It was at this point that Ford decided that his heart, in fact, had stopped beating all together.

Stanford stood there, helplessly; as he watched the dean reach for the receiver, ready to dial the numbers that would ruin Ford's life forever.

The overall feeling in the room changed drastically when Fids intercepted the phone, holding it down firmly with one hand. The dean looked up, appalled at the action of defiance, but mostly from the enraged look in Fids eyes. When the dean went to snatch the receiver from Fids, the boy jerked it away, unplugging the cord from the wall, and clutching it to his chest in one swift motion. The dean and Stanford were both stunned at Fids' inability to accept his fate. Fiddleford turned to Stanford with a dazed, but wild look in his eyes; the look of someone trying to convince you to jump out of an airplane. Fids only had to say one sentence for it to all make sense, "I believe you."

Fiddleford spun around towards the window behind the heavy oak desk, cocked his arm back, and hurled the phone at the glass. The window shattered to a million pieces as the phone disappeared into the infinite darkness outside.

"Are you crazy!?" The dean roared.

"Not yet!" Fiddleford shouted, "And neither is he! We both know what you are, you Naga! There's no use hiding it!"

Ford was suddenly invigorated. The two boys realized, at about the same time, that everything was arbitrary now. If they were going to jail in the morning, they might as well finish what they started.

Ford ripped into his duffle bag quickly, pulling out a drawing of a Naga. He held it up to the dean's face, shouting loudly, "You know what this is! You know what you are! Admit it!" Ford had backed the dean up against the wall.

"Hey, look man! I'm not a Naga! Back off!"

"Then how do you explain the snake symbols everywhere?" Ford interrogated.

"It's just my brand!" The dean was cowering at this point, "Viper! That's what I call the pot I deal! It's Viper brand weed!"

Ford backed off, letting the picture drop to his side. It all made sense. None of this should make sense, the dean was supposed to be a mythical creature in disguise, not a weed-dealing jerk.

Fids noticed the change in Ford's attitude, so he tried to get Ford back on track, "Likely story. We know that's just a cover up. Give him the facts, Ford!"

Ford's shoulders slouched and he let out a sigh, "Fids, it's no use. He's not a Naga."

Fids tried to think of something inspirational, "C'mon man! We've almost cracked him! You've got all of the research to back it up!"

Ford was beginning to get frustrated, "Damn it Fiddleford, just look at the guy! All we're doing is scaring him. There's nothing else to uncover. I… I'm an idiot. I took this way too seriously and jumped to too many conclusions. I… I just wanted it to be true so bad. I wanted this to be something supernatural and mystical, but instead, I got cold hard reality, and now I'm not going to graduate, and I'm going to jail, and I'm going to be nothing!"

Tears were welling in Ford's eyes, and pooled while the room filled with silence, except the whistling of wind through the shattered window.

Fids reached out a hand to touch Ford's shoulder, but he couldn't quite reach, "Ford, I-"

The sound of the door unlatching grabbed the attention of everyone in the room. It creaked open slowly as a bald headed man with a long face peaked in. It took Ford a few moments to recognize who it was, and when he did, the synapses in his mind kicked into high gear, connecting all of the clues, and drawing conclusions. Ford's arm flew backwards, instinctively, and he grabbed Fids' chest, taking small, slow steps backwards. The face just watched as Ford realized what was happening, and Fids remained utterly confused. The dean's face contorted into a wicked smile, as did the face that watched. The greyish, almost skull like, face slowly stepped inside and shut the door with a gentle click. The man towered over everyone else in the room, and took this grave atmosphere as an opportunity to speak.

"I heard all of the commotion, sir," Said the tall man with a slight lisp, "Is there a problem?" The man's gaze paralyzed Ford and he finally stopped shuffling Fids and himself backwards.

"Wh-what's it to you?" Fids piped up, trying to be the brave one. Of course, he couldn't have picked a worse time, "You're just the janitor, isn't there something you should be cleaning up?"

The janitor's icy cold gaze was worse than the cold wind blowing up against the boys' backs. He let out an insidious laugh, "Why yes. And what a lovely place to start."

Ford thumped Fids in the chest, trying to make him hold his tongue.

"Ouch!" Fids exclaimed, "What was that for?"

"Shut up." Ford ordered through gritted teeth, refusing to take his eyes off of the janitor.

"Why? What's he going to do? It's just the janitor." Fids countered.

"That's not the janitor," Ford held as still as he possibly could, "It's the Naga."

Suddenly, as if someone had flipped a switch, wind came tearing though the room, sending papers on the desk flying. The tall, tall man began to chuckle as he twisted one of his legs over the other. His legs twisted and twisted like a wicked vine until they became the same green color of one. The shape of legs had dissipated into a giant mass, forming a large, misshapen tail from his pelvis down. All of the color had drained from the boys' faces as they watched their wild goose chase reveal its true form in front of them. The tail lurched out and wrapped itself around Fiddleford in the blink of an eye, bringing him face to face with the creature.

"Fids!" Ford shouted, but as he tried to sprint to his friend's side, the dean grabbed both of Ford's arms, detaining him. Ford tried to wriggle free, but the dean was much stronger than he seemed.

Fids could feel his ribcage tighten slowly as the huge tail contracted. His arms were held down by his sides, leaving them useless. Fids was inches away from the creature's face as it examined him closely, "Oh yes, this is a lovely place to start!"

The Naga's jaw unhinged, revealing hundreds of razor sharp teeth just waiting to sink into his flesh. The creature's eyes rolled back in its head, becoming just the milky whites of its eyes as it prepared to feast. Fids squirmed and kicked and shouted, trying everything he could to free himself, but it was no use.

"Put him down, you bastard!" Ford shouted, still trying to free himself. His classes in self-defense finally came in handy as he remembered how to get out of a hold like that. He squatted down and leaned forward, and then he shot up like a spring, hitting the dean directly in the nose with the back of his head. The collision made the dean release Ford and go flying backwards. Ford's vision was a little blurry, and his head was spinning, but he managed to sprint towards the giant python that was still trying to suffocate Fiddleford.

The Naga was in a trance, so it didn't see Ford dash behind it. He scaled up the creature's back quickly, and wrapped his arm around its clammy neck. Before it could even figure out what was happening, Ford cocked his arm back and shouted, "Left hook!"

His fist collided with the side of the creature's head, and its tail started to loosen, dropping Fiddleford on the ground. Fids sucked in air, finally able to breathe again. The deep breaths sent a shooting pain throughout his chest every time he gasped, but he still managed to get to his feet and lean against the desk at his side.

Meanwhile, Ford was able to hit the Naga with a second left hook before its tail slithered around and grabbed him by the leg. The tail whipped around, back in front of the Naga again, holding Ford upside-down.

The creature laughed, "You puny humans think you're so strong." Ford reached for the coil around his foot and pulled at it helplessly. The Naga continued, "But you're all weak. Especially you."

The Naga slipped into the same trance as before, preparing to make a meal out of Stanford. He was slowly being lowered into its mouth when Stanford reached at his free foot and pulled out a concealed knife from his sock, thrusting it as hard as he could into the creature's forehead. It dropped Stanford quickly and let out a hideous shriek. Ford belly flopped on the floor with a thud and the now bloodstained knife in his hand.

Meanwhile, the delirious dean, who clearly had a broken nose, physically turned Fiddleford around. He tried to throw a punch at Fids, but he managed to dodge it. Fids was quick on his feet, and managed to throw a punch back, landing straight on the dean's jaw, sending him backwards. Fids quickly swung again, this time, landing his right fist on the dean's left temple. This blow knocked the dean off of his feet. He stumbled backwards, tripped over his own feet, and smacked his head on a corner table on his way down. Fids was relieved when the dean didn't get back up, and stayed incapacitated on the ground. Fiddleford's attention was turned back to the towering creature, and Ford, who seemed so fragile in comparison, when it let out its shriek.

Ford hopped up to his feet, suspecting that he had defeated it. Suddenly, the huge tail snapped at Ford like a whip, sending him against the wall and knocking the wind out of him. The beast cackled as the dripping wound on its head sealed up, "Oh, if only it were that easy. Face it, you're going to die here!" It shouted, this time, wrapping around Ford in a similar way it had grabbed Fiddleford earlier.

Ford's arms were free, but the coil around chest cavity was getting tighter and tighter every time he banged a fist against it. He was panicking now, and could feel the tail cutting off his circulation. _How did it heal like that?_ Ford thought, _it's impossible! I studied these things inside and out! It can't be invincible! There must be another way; there has to be! That's it… It's time for plan B._

"Ford! What do I do?" Fids called out, scared for both of their lives.

The beast's voice became sinister and dark, "You wait your turn!"

Ford looked at Fids with wide, desperate eyes, and pointed at his bag on the floor. Fiddleford sprinted to the bag, dropped to his knees and ripped the bag open. He quickly grabbed the only two items in there and chucked them at Ford, "Kill the fucker!"

In his left hand, Ford caught a can of hairspray, in his right, a lighter. Ford's panicked expression quickly changed into a knowing smirk. The Naga took only a moment to realize what was happening, and fear flashed in its cloudy eyes for only a second. It knew what was going to happen.

Ford flicked on the lighter pointed the can at the Naga, "Rest in pieces motherfucker."

The room burst into light as Ford shot a stream of burning hairspray directly in the creature's face. The Naga began screeching and clawed at its face with its fleshy hands, trying to extinguish the fire, but it was too late, the fire had spread to its torso and was growing rapidly. The Naga dropped Ford again, which stopped the onslaught from the homemade flamethrower, but didn't stop the beast from becoming completely engulfed in flames. Both Ford and Fids stepped back, shielding their eyes from the fire. The Naga hissed and screamed and sputtered and shrieked as it kept trying to pat out the fire in vain. The creature's skin started to boil as it let out one final bellow and collapsed in on itself, imploding into nothing, taking the fire with it. Ford couldn't believe his eyes as he watched the towing creature just disappear before him. There were a few brief moments of silence and awe as both boys tried to process what just happened. Ford finally turned to Fids with a smirk on his face, "I was right."

Fiddleford threw his arms around Ford, hugging him as tight as his injured ribcage would allow, "You were right."

Ford hugged him back tightly. He was just so glad that they were both alive and breathing. They stood there embracing for what seemed like forever, neither wanting to let go. When they finally did, Ford couldn't unlock his eyes for the shorter boy's.

"I'm sorry I got you into this, Fids. I really am." Ford admitted.

Fiddleford hit him on the shoulder playfully, "Oh you shut up! I'm the one that started this. Besides, you'd be dead if I didn't come with, and I wouldn't be able to let myself live that down." Fids offered a warm smile, "So don't apologize."

Ford smiled as well, but was still unable to look away from Fids' soft, baby blue eyes.

Fiddleford finally broke the eye contact and turned around, gesturing to the dean, "So what do we do about him?"

Ford's smile grew even bigger, "One moment!" He dug through his deep pockets and pulled out a tape recorder. He held it up in one hand and pressed the button for it to stop recording, "I've got a confession." He smirked, waving the device back and forth.

"You're the best, man." Fids said, patting Ford on the shoulder, "Now, can we please go home and maybe to a doctor?"

Ford chuckled and nodded as he gathered up their things. They turned off the lights, but left the dean unconscious on the floor. As the two were darting across the dark campus, Ford tripped on something heavy. He caught himself from falling, but went to inspect what had tripped him. He bent down and picked up a banged up phone. He looked up and saw that they were only a few yards from the broken window in the dean's office. Ford and Fids exchanged glances as Ford shoved the phone into his bag, "Wouldn't want to leave any evidence."

And with that, they both snuck quickly back to the dorms and went straight to bed. They had both had enough mystery for one night.

* * *

 _A/N: Oh golly, what a chapter! I hope this was good enough for you, because I wrote it at 2 in the morning! Thanks for reading, I appreciate it ^_^_


	9. Chapter 9

A few weeks had passed since the Naga incident, and the whole atmosphere of the college had changed. The dean was fired, naturally, and the janitor was listed in the local paper as "missing" for a few days, but eventually, everyone moved on and forgot about him. Fiddleford had two broken ribs that were healing properly, and he started sleeping with a baseball bat under his bed. Occasional, he'd wake in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, gasping for air as if the giant tail was squeezing him in his sleep. Those nights were tough on Fids, and those dreams kept him awake for the rest of the night. He had inadvertently adopted the habit of sneaking down to the first floor when a nightmare woke him up. It was safe to assume the Ford was awake as well, considering how tired he always looked in the morning. Fids would gently knock at Ford's door in the middle of the night, just loud enough so he could hear it, but if he were asleep, it wouldn't wake him. Ford would answer every time with some random assignment in hand and a sympathetic greeting. Fids would claim that he needed help with an assignment, had an idea for an invention that he couldn't get out of his head, or something of that nature; but never the truth. Ford would play along, but deep down, he knew something was off.

It was exactly 4 weeks after the incident and Fiddleford awoke with a jolt. His eyes flew open and he started gasping for air, making his tender ribs ache. He rubbed his hands over his face, trying to snap out of it, but the dreams just seemed to get more real every time. He sat up in bed and looked around, reassuring himself that he was in fact alone in the room. Fiddleford, now wide-awake, crept out of his room and down the stairs, as per routine.

When Ford heard the gentle knock at his door, he wasn't surprised in the slightest. He got up and answered the door with the same greeting as always, "Couldn't sleep?"

"Nope," said Fiddleford, scratching the back of his head and yawning, "This project that we've got coming up in English Composition is stressing me out. It's due on Tuesday, and I still have no idea what I'm going to do for it. Will you help me?"

Ford couldn't say no to the sleepy Fids that showed up nearly every other night; he was like a stray cat that kept coming back for food. Stanford moved aside, and agreed to help.

"Thanks man," Fids smiled, stepping inside, "You're the best."

"Tell me something I don't know," Ford joked.

Fids thought for a moment before answering, "A raccoon can run at speeds of up to 15 miles per hour."

Ford chuckled, "I didn't know that..."

Fids shrugged, "My cousin got chased down by one once. Those things are a lot faster than you think."

"I don't doubt it," Ford said while taking a seat on the edge of his bed, "But I doubt you're going to do your English project over raccoons."

Fids sat down next to him, "Considering the project is supposed to be over a major turning point in history, I don't think so."

Ford leaned back on his hands and let out a sigh, trying to think of a topic, "You could talk about the Civil Rights Movement," He suggested.

"Nah, that's pretty recent. Besides, that's what all of the slackers are going to do their papers over. Either that or the Civil War."

"You use the word slackers as if you aren't one, mister "this project is due Tuesday and I'm just now bothering my genius best friend to help me"" Ford mocked.

Fids punched him playfully on the shoulder, "Oh shut up! What else do you expect me to do? Like you said, you're a genius! It'd be dumb of me to not use you."

Ford bit his lip and decided to go out on a limb, "It seems like you've been using my genius an awful lot lately… is there any reason for that?"

The room was now silent except for the faint sound of a ticking clock. Fiddleford didn't make eye contact; he just played with a string on his pajama bottoms, "No."

There was another silence before Ford pressed on, "Are you sure?"

Fiddleford sat for a moment, trying to formulate a response, "I'm sure that I'm going to fail this assignment if I don't come up with a topic!"

Ford wasn't amused, "You're changing the subject."

"You changed it first." Fids suddenly became very defensive.

"You're not helping."

"And neither are you!"

Ford put his hand on the shorter boy's shoulder, "Then let me help you," There was no response, so he continued, "Look, I know something's been keeping you up at night. I don't mind you coming and spending time with me, but I know that it's not because you need help with homework. There's something bothering you, I know there is."

Fiddleford still refused to answer or look at Ford.

"Is it because of the Naga?" Ford all but whispered.

After a long pause, Fids took a shaky breath, "I… it didn't bother me that much when it happened, but I… I keep having these dreams about it, and they keep getting worse… and… I" His voice trailed off. It sounded like he was close to tears.

Ford moved closer and kept a calm, soothing voice, "Hey hey hey, it's okay, Fids, I understand. What happened was pretty scary, and both of our lives were endangered. I'm sorry you had to go through that, and I'm sorry I put you through it. You are one of the bravest guys I know. Hell, you helped me kill a monster! You're going to be fine, Fids. That thing is dead, the dean is gone, and I'm here," Ford placed his hand on Fid's face and gently turned it so they were face to face, "I'm here. I'm alive, you're alive, and we did it together. We're going to be fine."

Fids rubbed the back of his hand at one of his red, water eyes, "I just wish I could forget about it."

Ford shrugged, "I don't. I think of it as a crowning achievement. We tracked down and killed a dangerous creature. We saved the college! We're like heroes, Fiddleford! You and I! We did it, man, we did it."

Fids suddenly brought Ford into a hug, clenching his shirt in his thin hands. Ford hugged back, offering a gentle pat on the back.

"Thank you." Fids said.

When the two pulled away, they managed to crack a tired smile at each other. Without a word, Fids grabbed a pillow, placed it on Ford's lap, and laid down on it. He closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh.

Ford didn't mind this position. It was unusual for him to see Fiddleford so calm and at peace. He was usually bouncing up and down with excitement, but he was obviously very sleep deprived. Sure, Fids was a year older than Ford, but he had always acted younger; he had always looked younger. Now, his eyes were puffy and he just seemed so tired.

Stanford reached up a timid hand, running it lightly through his friend's hair, trying to console him. There was no response. _Is he asleep?_ Ford thought, _He has to be; he's so tired. God… I feel so bad about all of this. It's my fault he's so tired_. Ford continued to run his hand through the boy's hair in long, slow strokes. _His hair is pretty soft though. I guess I've never really touched it before… I could get used to this. It's really relaxing._ Ford could feel a foreign flutter in his chest. He couldn't quite explain the sensation, but it made him want to do more than just stroke Fids' hair. Ford put his free hand on his friend's upper arm and rubbed small circles with his thumb. This didn't quite satisfy the sensation. Ford couldn't put his finger on it. He started to ponder again. _He's no doubt asleep by now. It'd be weird if I did anything else… wait… why would I do anything else anyway? Why do I want to do anything else? I care about him a lot…but not like that… definitely not like that._ Ford could feel a sweat breakout on his forehead as his thoughts tried to run wild. _Jesus Ford, he's… he's a guy, you're a guy, just stop thinking about it. Just think about something else; anything else._

Ford leaned back against the wall behind his bed. He continued to run his hand through Fids' hair, but tried desperately to not think about it. His eyelids felt heavy, and the soft light from the lamp combined with the quiet ticking of a clock in the background added to the calm atmosphere. Ford felt himself drifting off, but did nothing to stop it.

* * *

The quiet of the early morning was suddenly broken by Ford's ear piercing alarm, as usual. Both boys jolted from their sleep; Ford lurching forward, and Fids shooting up, resulting in them smacking faces in the middle. They both let out an obscenity and apologized for hitting the other. Fids rubbed the part of his forehead that was now sore and stretched while Ford got up and shut off the alarm. They agreed to go get breakfast at a tiny restaurant together, but stopped at Fids' room first so he could get dressed. The restaurant was easily within walking distance, and it was starting to warm up outside, so they didn't mind strolling there. When they stepped outside, the air was crisp and the grass showed faint hints of green. A few lonely birds sang in the distance and the breeze rattled the skeleton-like trees. There were quite a few students out and about on campus. There were two shaggy haired boys playing Frisbee, and a group gathered around a girl with flowers braided into her hair and a guitar in her hands. The two boys walked side by side with their hands in their pockets and not much to say. As they passed the students playing Frisbee, one of them stopped, with the Frisbee in hand and started giggling, "Hey!" he shouted, "That's the sham total!"

"Yeah man!" Chimed in the other Frisbee player, "It's a total sham!"

Ford glanced around, "Are you talking to me?"

The first boy shook his head, "You're hilarious man!"

The two Frisbee players went back to their game and the two Fords continued walking.

"What the hell was that about?" Fids asked once they were a little farther down the sidewalk.

"I don't know," Ford shrugged, "your guess is as good as mine."

They continued on, but were stopped again when they passed the group of barefooted musicians.

The girl with flowers in her hair pointed at Ford, "Hey man, I know you! Your commercial is totally far out!"

Ford looked confused, "I think you've got the wrong guy."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Ford nodded, "I'm pretty sure."

The girl just shrugged and went back to playing. The two boys continued on their journey for breakfast. Fids waited until he was out of earshot of the group before speaking up.

"I think they're all on something," Fids piped up, "either that or you really look like someone else."

Ford shook his head, "You know, I wouldn't doubt it if they were on something. Oh well, let's just hurry up, I'm famished!"

Fids smiled to himself. He was happy that Ford now looked forward to breakfast instead of skipping it.

They arrived after a few minutes. They were welcomed with the aroma of sizzling bacon, coffee, and hotcakes. They picked a booth by the window and sat down, waiting for a waitress. Ford ordered an omelet, a few strips of bacon, and black coffee, whereas Fids ordered their largest stack of pancakes, along with bacon and toast.

"There's no way you can eat all of that!" Ford exclaimed after the waitress left.

"Is that a challenge, Fordsie?" Fids smirked.

Ford ignored the pang in his heart, "Well, first of all, there's no way you can fit all of that in your stomach. Second of all, I really don't want you to throw up all over me."

Fids crossed his arms, "Oh, so it _is_ a challenge."

Ford tried to hold back a smile, "You know what? Fine, yes, it is a challenge."

Fiddleford rubbed his hands together, "Well then, I hope you're prepared to lose!"

"In your dreams," said Ford, squinting his eyes. He shook his head, laughing. The TV hanging on the far wall caught his attention. It was tuned into the local station and there was a news anchor talking very animatedly.

"As of yesterday," the anchor announced, "the US senate approved the lowering of the voting age from 21 to 18. There's been a lot of uncertainty surrounding the topic. Many say that 18 is much too young for voting and that teenage voters are easily swayed. Now we're going over to our field reporter, Mark Whaldorf who has more on the story."

"Whoa!" Fids exclaimed excitedly, "That's far out! We can totally vote now!"

"Finally! Looks like we'll get to vote in the next election." Ford added.

"With some of the kids I know, maybe this is not such a good idea." Fids laughed.

They both turned back to the TV just in time for the end of the broadcast. The news anchor signed off and the screen went dark. When the screen lit back up with a commercial, Ford felt all of the blood drain from his face when he saw whom it was.

His brother Stanley popped up on the screen, "Hi there! I'm Stan Pines of Stanco enterprise! Are you sick of this always happening to you?"

"W-Wait a second," Fids started, "when on earth did you make a commercial? You said you had no idea what those guys were talking about!"

Ford felt like he was going to be sick. _What the hell is Stanley doing_ , He thought, _what is this? Is this what he's been up to?_

Ford lowered his face into his hands, "God damn it, Stanley…" He muttered angrily. The commercial finished.

"Stanley? Who's Stanley?" Fids asked.

Ford snapped out of it and realized that he wasn't the only one just figuring out about this. _Shit_ , Ford thought _, I never told him about Stanley. Fuck, now what do I say? I've kept my twin secret from him this whole time; he wasn't supposed to find out this way!_ Ford suddenly found it hard to breathe; _I've got to get out of here!_

Their waitress walked up and sat down their plates as Ford stood up.

"Hey, where ya going?" Fids asked. He knew something was up.

"I got to go." Ford mumbled as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and hurried out the door.

"No, wait! Ford, come back here!" Fids started to follow, but stopped in his tracts and turned to address the waitress, "I'm coming back for that." He said, pointing at his plate before rushing out the door.

When he got outside, he saw a distressed Stanford pacing back and forth a ways down the sidewalk with his hands on his head. Fids hurried over, "Ford," he said, slowing to a stop, "What's wrong man? What was that? And who's Stanley?"

Ford stopped pacing and dropped his arms, "Look Fids, I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"I'm sorry for lying to you." Ford admitted.

Fids was genuinely confused, "What did you lie to me about?"

Ford took a deep breath, "I… I have a twin brother."

* * *

 _A/N: Oh boy, here comes the feels train! First stop, unresolved anger! But seriously though, thanks for reading! I suppose that I should warn you that there's only going to be roughly 3 more chapters in this story. It should be finished by the 23rd of this month, so make sure you pay attention because I'm going to be uploading like a maniac! Mostly because I'm using a school laptop to write this story, and we have to give them back at the end of the school year. Oh yeah! I almost forgot! I wouldn't necessarily call myself an artist, but if you'd like to look at some drawings I did of this fanfic, you can find them on Tumblr. My url is birdmom5ever (P.S. You'll probably have to scroll past some Steven Universe to find all of it (sorry not sorry)) but anyway, thanks again! I love you all and thanks for all of the good vibes :D_


	10. Chapter 10

"Oh my God… really?" Fiddleford asked in disbelief.

Ford nodded solemnly.

"Why did you never tell me about him? I've told you about all of my brothers and sisters before, but you never mentioned any siblings. I thought you were an only child."

Ford stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked irritated, "I might as well be."

Fids placed a hand on his counterpart's shoulder, "Did he do something?"

Stanford shook his head and started to walk away, "You wouldn't understand. I have to go, I'm sorry." He was stopped by a tight grip on his upper arm.

"Ford, no. You can't just walk away from this." Fids stood firmly in place, not allowing him to leave, "If I wouldn't understand it, then who the hell would? I'm your best friend Stanford, and if I you can't even tell me, then… then what really are we?"

The sun tucked behind a cloud, making everything colder. Stanford knew it was a rhetorical question, but he still tried to think or an answer. _What really are we?_ Ford thought, _what are we if I can't tell him about my brother? He's the only friend I have at this school, and he really is the only person I trust; the only person I can trust._ Stanford walked up to the edge of the building and sat on a ledge jutting out. Fids joined him, still waiting with an eager ear. Ford sighed and closed his eyes, trying to think of how to start the story, "My brother Stanley is a complete knucklehead. When we were growing up, I was the brain and he was the brawn. We did everything together and would frequent the beach, looking for adventure; everyone thought we were freaks. But that never really bothered us. We were each other's best friends, and that was good enough for us. In school, I excelled, naturally. My brother on the other hand… not so much. Like I said, Stanley's a knucklehead, but he couldn't really help it. He'd rather solve his problems with punches than logic, but it's not really his fault I suppose. I had a promising future while Stanley… got by. When we were around twelve, Stanley and I had found this shipwreck on the beach. It wasn't a huge boat, just a tiny thing, but as kids, it felt like we had made the discovery of a lifetime. We decided to fix the thing up and get it back in the water so that we could sail away from all of our childhood bullies and go on adventures for the rest of our life. We worked on that thing well into high school, and by the end of our senior year it was almost completed. That was when… when things went wrong." Ford stared at his feet despondently.

"What went wrong?" Fids asked timidly.

Stanford took a few deep breaths as he gained the courage to continue, "Well, one day, we both got called to the principal's office, which with us, was hardly ever a good thing. Apparently the principal only want to talk to me, so I went in. My parents were in there, which scared me immensely. I found out that I wasn't in trouble, in fact, quite the opposite. West Coast Tech had caught wind of my perpetual motion machine I had created for the science fair and were sending their admissions team to come see if I was West Coast Tech Material."

"Wow! West Coast Tech… your perpetual motion machine must have been phenomenal!" Fids exclaimed.

"It was." Ford said, looking back down at his shoes.

Fids could tell where this story was going, "So what happened next?"

"Well, that night, I told Stanley about it. He was truly happy for me… until he found out that the school was all the way across the country. He wanted me to stay and go sailing on our boat with him, since it was nearly completed. I made a deal that if West Coast Tech didn't want me, then I'd stay and go sailing around the world with him. I was in high hopes though. I was certain I'd make it in; there was no way they'd decline me… but I was wrong. When the admissions team came the next day to look at my project, it was broken. I was… I can't even explain the amount of grief I was feeling as they crossed out my name and walked away. I looked down at my feet and realized that I was standing on an empty bag of toffee peanuts, Stanley's favorite snack. That was when I put it all together. He had sabotaged my project and ruined any chances I had of going to my dream school. He even admitted to it when I confronted him and I…" Stanford clenched his fists, "I just can't forgive him. Not for that. Not ever."

Fids was taken aback, "Whoa… I'm sorry Stanford."

"It doesn't matter anymore. Stanley made his choice, and my father kicked him out for it. I haven't seen him since he drove away that night. Well… not including the commercial. I would have been perfectly fine never seeing him again though. That bastard ruined my future… he ruined everything." Stanford's scowl only seemed to get worse.

Fiddleford thought for a moment, "Well, I don't think he ruined _everything_."

"What do _you_ know?" Ford snapped.

"I know that you still have a promising future." He reassured.

"Not as promising as a future at West Coast Tech," Ford simmered for a moment. He could feel a deep anger building up inside of him; the anger he'd been trying to suppress. He suddenly jumped to his feet in a loud outburst, "God damn it! Why did Stanley have to be so fucking selfish?! I could be across the country getting the education of a lifetime, but instead I'm stuck in fucking New Jersey! Stanley just couldn't let me be happy! He just had to fuck everything up like he always does! I hate him! He ruined my entire fucking life!" Ford erupted, channeling his unbridled rage into his fist and punching the wall of the building as hard as he could. The pain shot up his arm like a bolt of lightning. He drew his hand back quickly, clutching it to his chest and letting out a yell from the pain and his fury. Ford dropped to his knees and balled up, tugging at his hair with his uninjured hand trying to control his anger. He could feel cool tears rolling down his hot cheeks. There was an unbearable pain in his hand, but it didn't compare to the pain he was feeling in his heart.

Fids dropped down to his side in an instant, rubbing his back in an attempt to comfort him, "Whoa whoa whoa, calm down, Stanford, it's ok, you're going to be fine, just calm down." Fids could see blood coming from Ford's injured hand that was balled up against him, "Hey, you're hurt, let me see your hand-"

Ford lurched back, eyes wide and his bleeding hand immediately stuffed into his pocket. He leaned back on his free hand, still trying to hide it behind his body, "Don't!" He shouted, practically hyperventilating, "Don't look at them!"

Fiddleford sat up, putting his hands up in an attempt to show that he meant no harm. He was honestly freaked out by Ford's outburst that seemingly came out of nowhere, "Okay, okay! I won't look at them. Just take deep breaths. It'll be ok, just breathe."

Ford was still hyperventilating. His heart was beating out of his chest and he felt numb all over, except for his fist. Ford managed to scramble to his feet, conceal his other hand, and hurry away back towards the college without saying a word.

Fiddleford contemplated stopping him, but figured that would just make things worse. He just rose to his feet and watched Ford run away, more concerned than before. He heard the ring of the bell hanging from the restaurant door, and the boys' waitress leaned out the door.

"Are you two coming back for your food?" She asked.

"You can go ahead and wrap it up." Fids said, "Looks like I'm getting it to go.

* * *

Fiddleford knocked at Stanford's door. No response. He went ahead and twisted the knob, finding it unlocked, and walked in. Ford sat on the edge of his bed with his head drooped and his hand poorly bandaged. Fiddleford sat next to him, placing a Styrofoam container on Ford's lap and opening a second one for himself. Ford hesitantly opened the box to see the omelet and bacon he had ordered earlier. The two ate their cold breakfast in silence. When Fiddleford was almost finished, he spoke up, "We don't have to talk about it anymore if you don't want to. I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was such a sore topic."

"Don't be sorry," Ford said, "I just wish you hadn't seen me like that."

Fids put a hand of Ford's knee, "We all have something that gets to us. For example, my nightmares get to me. But you helped me. You helped me confront my problem. Sometimes that's what you have to do."

"I don't plan on confronting my brother." Ford deadpanned.

"I don't expect you to. At least not right now. Eventually, though, you'll forgive him." Fids reassured.

"I appreciate your optimism, but unless you can create some kind of machine that can go back in time or erase my memories, I won't forgive him." He stated.

"Well then, I guess I'll get started on some blueprints then," He nudged Ford, but couldn't get him to smile. He decided to change the subject, "You know, there's this guy named David on my floor, and he invited me to a party tonight. I wasn't going to go, but maybe we should go together. We both need a break from all of this seriousness. Especially you. I think it'll do you some good to have fun and take your mind off of it all. What do you say?"

Ford swallowed the last bite of his omelet and shrugged.

"I'll take that as a yes," said Fids. He grabbed both of their Styrofoam containers and sat them to the side, "The party starts at 7 o'clock downtown at David's cousin's house," He jostled Ford and smiled goofily, "Make sure you bring your dancing shoes and get ready to boogey!"

Ford cracked the tiniest of smiles, which was enough to encourage Fiddleford. He started singing the song Knock Three Times while swaying back and forth, " _Hey girl whatcha doing down there! Dancing alone every night while I live right abooovee yooouuu_. _I can hear your music playing,_ " He hopped to his feet and placed his hands on Ford's shoulder's forcing him to sway as well, " _I can feel your body swaying. One floor below me you don't even know me I love yooouu_." Fids winked and Ford just rolled his eyes, incapable of not smiling at Fids making a fool of himself. He continued to croon, " _Oh my darling! Knock three times on the ceiling if you want meee. Twice on the pipe if the answer is nooo._ "

Ford happily reached up and knocked on Fiddleford's forehead twice.

"You jerk!" He laughed, tackling Ford backwards onto the bed, trying to tickle him. The two were giggling as they both fought for control over the other. Eventually, Ford managed to roll over and pin Fiddleford on his back. Ford held Fids' arms down and sat on his pelvis, making it impossible for Fids to escape, although he tried.

After a few moments of trying to wiggle free, he admitted defeat, "You got me Fordsie." Fids grinned.

The nickname didn't even bother Ford this time, "I got you."

The two panted from their roughhousing and just stared at each other for a while. Ford could feel his heart racing and a flutter in his stomach. He had no idea why, though. He thought that maybe it was something he ate, or he was having a heart attack, but neither of those seemed right. He also felt a strange sensation… somewhere else, but he chose to ignore that one. He then started to think that it was, perhaps, the way Fids was looking at him. Fiddleford's eyes were completely dilated and were floating back and forth between Ford's eye and lips. He could only think of how soft the boy's hair was, and how similar the feeling he had right now was to the one he had last night. And then in happened. Fiddleford sat up and kissed Stanford softly on the lips. Ford's eyes fluttered shut automatically as he felt Fids' supple lips mold against his own. His cheeks grew incredible hot and his heart felt like it had exploded in his chest as he melted into the kiss. The tender moment felt like a lifetime in Ford's mind, but in reality, was over after a few seconds when Fids pulled away. The two boys' eyes were fixed, each still registering what just happened. Ford sat there, not sure what to say or do. All he could do was stare in awe at what just happened.

Fids suddenly snapped out of his lovesick trance and sat up all the way, "I… I'm sorry… I'll just… uh," Fids rambled as he shimmied his way out of Ford's now weak grip. He got to his feet and made a beeline for the door, "I'll pick you up at 6:30! Bye!"

And just like that, he was gone. Ford still had yet to move. _That was… that was amazing…_ Ford though with a dopy smile spread across his face, _wait… is Fids… gay? Am I gay? Are we gay?_ Ford laid down on his back. _I just kissed a boy… I just kissed a boy and I liked it. I really liked it… I…_ Ford looked down, just now noticing the escalated state of his manhood… _I have a boner._ He sat straight up and tried to conceal it, wondering if Fids noticed before he hurried away. He now realized what all of those strange feeling meant; what they all pointed to. _I think I'm in love with Fiddleford._


	11. Chapter 11

Fiddleford paced around his room fearing the worst. With Ford's reaction, or rather lack there of, Fids feared that he had ruined everything. He was sweating uncontrollably, trying to think of an excuse for kissing him. He felt sick to his stomach. Fids was hoping deep down inside that this didn't hurt their friendship or make Ford stop talking to him. He decided that he should just get ready for the party and act like nothing happened. He changed into a shirt that he wouldn't pit through and gathered the courage to face his crush.

* * *

Ford heard the familiar knocking at his door. He rushed to the door excitedly, unable to get rid of the lethargic grin stretched across his face.

"Greetings." Said Ford, trying to hide the fact that he overjoyed.

"Hey." Fids replied, trying to hide the fact that he was overly nervous, "Are you ready to go?"

"Sure am."

The two walked side by side down the hallway without exchanging a single word. Ford kept glancing over at Fids, admiring his party attire and the way it hugged his body. Ford also found himself staring at times, unable to get the image of the tender kiss out of his head. They were just about off campus when Ford spoke up.

"So, how are we getting there?"

"My old junker," Said Fids, "She's parked back here."

He led the way to his old, rust patched car parked along the street.

"The door can be a little tricky." Fids jiggled the passenger side door just right to get it to open. He waited for Ford to get in and then shut it. He hopped into the driver's side and, after a few tries, started the engine. They drove down the bumpy pavement towards the suburbs. The sun was setting, creating the feeling of a new adventure. The night was only just beginning. Ford rolled down his window and inhaled deeply, enjoying the smell of a barbeque hidden somewhere in the patchwork of homes they passed. The radio was playing faintly in the background as the lyrics to _Let It Be_ drifted throughout the vehicle, completing the sense of serenity. The whole car bounced on every bump and made an awful squealing noise whenever they came to a stop, but that didn't disturb the calm atmosphere.

Fids bit his lip, debating whether or not to bring up the kiss. There was so much at stake, and he had been mentally beating himself up over it. He took his eyes off the road for a moment to look at his passenger. The low hanging sun tinted Fords fluffy hair several different shades of gold. His eyes were half-closed as he let the wind blow his hair in all different directions. Fiddleford couldn't get over how captivating he was. Fids had had these thoughts deep down inside of him for a while, but he never dared to say anything.

Ford broke the silence, as well as Fids' train of thought, "Lovely day out."

"Mmhmm," Fids nodded, locking his eyes back onto the road.

There was a pause while Ford tried to think of something to say, "How many people do you think will be there?"

"Not too many. No more than 30."

Ford huffed, "That's a lot of people to me."

Fids shrugged, "Don't worry about it; you won't even notice." He flicked on his blinker and turned into a driveway. He parked alongside several other cars in the grass and killed the engine. The two boys got out of the car, shut their doors, and stood for a moment in silence. The sound of a pulsing bass line could be heard through the walls of the old two-story home, along with hoots and hollers from the teens inside.

"So…" Ford started, twiddling his thumbs, "Are we… are we going to talk about what happened earl-"

"Fiddleford!" Shouted a voice seemingly out of nowhere. A tall boy with long, bleach blond hair came striding down the steps of the front porch and across the lawn towards the old junker, "How are ya, man?" He asked, patting Fids hard on the back with his disproportionate hands.

"Not bad man, not bad." Fids answered, obviously winded from the greeting.

"Right on! How is that personal computer thing coming along?"

Fiddleford shrugged, "Pretty good. I've just got to work on making sure the battery doesn't overheat. I kind of blew up my first prototype..."

The tall boy laughed hysterically, "Far out man!"

The two shared a moment while Ford watched, not sure if he should comment, just stand there, or go inside. He knew two things for sure. He did not like this guy and the guy smelled like an ashtray. Ford squinted at the other two as the shared a moment laughing. _Who the hell is this guy? I've never seen Fids talking to him before. I mean… Fids doesn't really have any other friends… does he?_ Ford thought. _They're talking like they're friends though… and laughing like it too._

"Oh! I almost forgot! Jeremy, this is Ford. Ford, this is my pal Jeremy."

"It's nice to meet you." Jeremy smiled.

"Likewise." Ford deadpanned, unable to get rid of his scowl. _Why did Fids introduce Jeremy as his "pal" while I'm just plain old Ford?_ He thought.

Jeremy started to walk away, "Well it was nice seeing you both, I'm going to head back inside. Catch ya on the flip side!"

Ford waited until the lanky boy was inside, then walked around to join Fids on his side of the car, "Who was that guy?"

"Like I said, he's Jeremy."

Ford rolled his eyes, "Ok, I got that part. I mean, like, how do you know him? Where did you meet? How long have you known him?"

"Whoa man, chill," Fids looked bewildered, "What's your problem? You sound like you're jealous or something."

Ford crossed his arms and scoffed, "Jealous? Why would I be jealous? That's such an immature and primitive emotion."

Fiddleford just rolled his eyes, "C'mon, at this rate, we're going to miss the party."

The two walked up to the pulsing house. Fids, excited, Ford, not so much. He wasn't exactly the party type. Give Ford a nice, intellectual conversation and he was satisfied. As for loud, shouting, sweaty teenagers, well, there was a reason he didn't do boxing anymore. As soon as Fids opened the door, music poured out of the broken levy. They walked down a narrow hallway and entered into a large living room. There were roughly a dozen college students dancing, and a handful of them lounging around talking. The only light in the room was a lamp with a green light bulb screwed in and a lava lamp flowing on a nearby table, surrounded by plastic cups. Over half of the partygoers were inebriated, and the other half was obviously responsible for the smoky haze that filled the room. Fids lead the way through the living room into the adjacent kitchen. In the kitchen, Ford recognized David, whom was mixing drinks. There were two other guys trying the drinks and giggling like schoolgirls.

"Hey Fids!" David greeted with a wave, "You guys want something to drink?"

"Of course!" He answered.

David immediately went to work trying to create a tasty concoction. He handed a cup to both fords and then returned to his station.

Fiddleford turned to Ford, gave quick cheers and took a sip. His eyes widened and the jerked back from his cup, "Whoa! That's pretty strong." He continued to sip.

Ford just looked at his cup. He wasn't really interested in drinking, "I think I'll pass."

"First, you don't smoke, and now, you don't drink? I didn't realize my best friend was a nun." Fids joked.

Ford playfully hit him in the arm, "Shut your yap! One of us has to be sober enough to drive home."

Fids shrugged, "Guess that's not me!" He dug in his pocket and pulled out his keys, handing them to Stanford, "Here you go, Mr. Responsibility."

Ford rolled his eyes and snagged the keys. Fids took the gesture as a free pass to drink as much as he wanted, and knocked back his whole drink in three huge gulps. He pulled back, shaking his head compulsively. He took a deep breath and blinked his eyes.

"Maybe you should pace yourself," Ford suggested.

"Oh please, I'll be just fine," Fids reassured. The two shared an awkward moment, neither able to think of what to say.

Ford was still stuck on the kiss. The kiss that seemed to turn his whole world upside down and made him question who he was. He had been trying to read Fids' face all night, but he just looked nervous. _Was it something I did?_ Ford thought. _Why haven't we talked about it yet? I thought for sure he'd bring it up on the car ride here, but he hardly said anything… is he starting to regret it? Oh God, he is, isn't he. Fuck… I bet he's trying to think of a way to ask to just be friends. That kiss was probably just in the heat of the moment… he probably didn't even mean it. I have to ask him about it… I have to know._ Ford took a deep breath, " Hey, Fids?"

"Yes?"

"Did… why…" He paused, trying to think of how to word the question, "Can we talk about it?"

Fiddleford knew exactly what he meant, but had been trying to avoid potentially getting rejected, "T-Talk about what?"

"Talk about you kissi-"

A bloodcurdling scream came from the living room, interrupting every conversation in the house. The two boys dashed into the room almost instinctively. When they arrived on the scene, everyone was crowding around something in the center of the room. Ford pushed through the crowd to see what had caught everyone's attention. He gasped at a limp body laying on the floor as the same girl who had screamed let out another shriek, "He's dead!"

* * *

 _A/N: So...It has occurred to me that I would be really sad leaving this fic with so many parts of it left to tell. Where will Ford and Fids' relationship go? Will Ford finally resolve some of the feelings he has towards his brother without punching a wall? Who's the dead guy? You see? Too many questions and too many ideas in my head. Thus, I've devised a way to continue to post chapters and keep this fic going! I don't know when I'll finish it, but I'm not done with Ford's college days yet! On a more serious note, though, I seriously appreciate you guys reading this. I started it thinking maybe I'd get a few people to read it, but I didn't expect so many loyal patrons. Reading your comments is seriously the highlight of my day, and I find myself smiling like a doofus because I'm so happy people like my writing :) You guys keep me going and keep this story going. I wish I could hug you all, but since I'm poor and can't afford to travel to you, I'll leave you with a pun! What did the children eat their homework? Their teacher said it was a piece of cake! :D 3  
_


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